


The Tale of Fenris

by TheChampionOfDenerim



Series: The Tale of Fenris [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Act of True Love, Adventure, Amnesia, Multi, Romance, Tragedy, Unrequited Anders/Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:50:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 73,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChampionOfDenerim/pseuds/TheChampionOfDenerim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After <em>Tale of the Champion</em> Varric promised Hawke he'd never write about him again. But when he finds Fenris' journal years after their dealing with the Inquisition, he can't help but craft it into a novel. This is <em>The Tale of Fenris</em>, or as Varric calls it <em>What Broody did while Hawke was playing hero again</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the wake of betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a reposting of my fic from Fanfiction.net, but it is also a re-edited version to clean up my mistakes and any iffy writing I needed to fix.  
> I hope you enjoy! ^.^  
> Please read & review!
> 
> Dene.

It began where Kirkwall, as we knew it, fell. Before the Chantry's ashes had cooled the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter were at one another's throats. Amidst their bickering and Sebastian's nonsensical drivel about demanding revenge, I had eyes only for him. The mage shrouded in a crimson light, stood in disbelief as he drank in the devastation before him. Only on one other occasion had I seen him so sad, and of that I would rather not speak. Rounded ears heard the sounds of a dozen screams, honey-coloured eyes watched as ash-rain fell from the Heavens as if Andraste wept black tears for what had been done. All this time he said nothing, not until their eyes pulled at him. Like children with a ragdoll they tried to make him theirs, forcing him to pick a side. _How foolish._ How could he pick a side when he knew full well the faults and praises of both mages and Templars? It had taken Hawke seven long years to help reform my way of thinking towards mages and their gifts, but in those years he had seen and suffered much at the hands of his magical kin.

'I don't want to get involved.' He waved his hands gently, trying desperately to defuse the hopeless situation.

'You already are.' Meredith retorted.

'Then know I cannot stand by as you murder innocents. I stand with the mages.'

His voice silenced all others, and for a moment I felt strange. Fear washed over me as I realised what was to come. The man I loved was going to die for mages, the very creatures who had darkened my waking hours and deprived me of my nights. For a moment all of Hawke's reassuring words, all his promises about how mages were mostly good people, fell on deafened ears. Bile rose in my throat as a memory came unbidden: _She kicked the bowl out of my radius, and I had to watch as my first meal in a week soaked into the stone flooring. I didn't get long to mourn, another swift boot connected with my ribs. Her laughter pierced the air like the squall of a gull, and then her hands flickered with purple lightning, sending the bolts straight into my unguarded back._

'Hawke,' my voice shook as I spoke, 'if you choose this path, I do not know that I can walk it with you.'

'Fenris.' He looked more weary than he had been in weeks; his skin streaked with ash made him look older than he was. He furrowed his brow and in those eyes I saw his heart quiver, but a word from breaking. An ache bloomed in my chest. 'You were a slave. How can condemn them to this?'

'I-' As the broken look threatened to shatter him, I regained control of myself. My fear was trying to rule me as it had when I was a boy, when I was a slave and nothing more than Danarius' pet. With new determination I looked to him, not with anger or fury but with a gentle regret. 'You are right, I am at your side in this.'

I walked to stand beside him as others made their voices known, all stood by Hawke - our friend and Champion. On Meredith's words war between the two factions was officially declared, and before Orsino left he bade the Champion to do as he saw fit with Anders. It is rare these days that Hawke and I do not see eye-to-eye, but on this matter we differed. He had seen too much death already, and though not romantically interested in him, Anders had a place in his heart; as all his friends did. Anders lived on Hawke's kindness, but was banished from his sight. When we finally set to prepare in the tower, Hawke came to me as I was glancing a whetstone over my blade for what I hoped was not the final time.

'Fenris.' He was cleaner now having wiped the ash from his cheeks, but the tiredness I worried would never leave him now.

Placing the blade down with as little noise as I could, I neared him. Perhaps a joke would inspire something in him. 'Here I am, about to defend these mages in hopeless battle. You lead me to strange places, Hawke.'

There with a gentle smile was the man I loved, exactly as he had always been. 'I'll take you to stranger places than this, just watch.'

'A tempting offer.' I couldn't help it. A smirk grew on my face as that warm feeling filled me. It was happening increasingly around Hawke. The idea of loving him brought back the aching of what may happen that night. The image of him laying dead in my arms. I spoke before I had planned what to say, my eyes stinging. 'I may not get the chance to say this again... Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Hawke.'

I needed to be closer, to touch him and prove to myself this wasn't the Fade. The fool in me wished I would wake with him in my arms, that he would laugh and point out all the silly signs that what I'd seen was a dream. The slave was terrified I'd awaken to my windowless room, the iron collar about my neck and Hadriana's cackles echoing towards the door. I placed my hand upon his cheek, and he glanced out of the corner of his eye at the red band I wore on its wrist.

'Promise me you won't die. I can't bear the thought of living without you.'

At this I stood back, retracting myself and allowing him to speak. He answered almost as soon as the silence rose between us.

'I don't make that promise,' determination lit those eyes once more, 'unless you do.'

'Nothing is going to keep me from you.'

Without hesitation I pulled him into my arms and kissed him hard. It seemed my past shake had been forgiven, for he held me just as he had the first time. Our embrace nothing but our love for one another, sharing the kiss that we both feared may be our last. Had there not been a battle looming, and all our companions around, I would have been tempted to start with the mage's robe-fastenings. As it turned out the moment was spoiled by me catching Anders out of the corner of my eye, when I momentarily opened them. I will admit, jealously is an ugly thing but it is my demon to bear. I held Hawke closer and closed my eyes, choosing I'd rather enjoy the moment than let the abomination spoil anything else.

###### 

We had done it, we had survived thanks to Hawke, though surrounded by stupefied Templars made it a non-too-comfortable victory. Cullen motioned his men to stand back and let us through. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, we dispersed like pages on the wind. To my knowledge, each hurried to his or her dwelling, ready to snatch up what they could and race for the docks or the hills. We did not need to second-guess that come morning we would be hunted by civilian and Templar alike. Anders lived, the Champion had spared him, and together we had all brought about the end of the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander. That they had turned to blood magic and red lyrium didn't matter.

Since the little I owned was already on my person, I followed Hawke back to his manor. When we arrived and saw the broken front door, he began to call for Bodahn and his son, for Orana and his mabari, Niht. The house was still save for the fire still crackling in the hearth. The main room was dark and bore signs of fright and a quick leaving. Sandal's equipment laid out on a table, a rune still half-carved. Plates were dashed on the floor, no doubt where Orana had dropped them at the sound of the Chantry exploding. Leaning my sword against the doorway I watched as Hawke moved over to his desk, sifting quickly through the parchment to see what _must_ be kept. As he worked the firelight caught the side of him, I couldn't help but run my eyes over his form. A new memory came to me, but this one pleasant.

  


It was my fifth night in Kirkwall, I had acquired the help of a dwarf named Anso in trying to find a mercenary who would act as bait for the slavers who hounded me. It turns out he found the aid of the future Champion of Kirkwall, the man to whom all in need were his family. With a smile he had agreed to Anso's task, retrieving a box from a warehouse guarded by "thugs". I had watched from the shadows, hoping this man and his strange band would be enough. I lost sight of them when they entered the old Alienage building, and the fight when they emerged was a daze of colour and swords; so much so I couldn't be certain who launched what attack, though - to my distaste - there was clearly a mage amongst them. Working my way towards them, I slew my own far share in the streets. Most likely the slaver leader's backup, and it gave me nothing but great pleasure. One got away from me, using the wall as support and leaving a red streak against the stone. Tauntingly I walked behind him, listening to the gasped calls for help.

"Lieutenant! I want everyone in the clearing! Now!"

The call came from the leader as the wounded man finally rounded the corner. The lieutenant garbled something, trying to warn his commander, but it was too late. I brought my blade up and then down across his back. Before he fell I was descending the steps. In anger I had used the markings to dispatch the remaining slaver, and once my temper had cooled I looked to the band who had been tricked into helping me. At the time I would never have admitted it, possibly not even to myself. Now I knew for certain, Hawke was the most handsome man I'd ever met. His amber eyes were wide with surprise as I pulled my gauntlet out of the slaver's chest but they quickly calmed. I am not certain if he knew what he was doing, but I noticed his look sharply descended and then was brought back to my face. I suppressed a delighted shiver. When I had later discovered Hawke was a mage, it had more than complicated things. Over the next months I'd spent my nights downing my sorrows in Agreggio, trying to sort the war between my mind and my heart, but it was as easy as making allies of Meredith and Orsino. One night something gave, all Hawke's flirtations and his good looks overwhelmed me. Some would blame the wine, I say it was him I was intoxicated with.

  


'Fenris, you ok?' Hawke had turned round now, a concerned look on his face.

I could still feel his lips on mine, blood rushed to my cheeks. 'Y-Yes, I'm fine. I was thinking I should review my reading whilst you packed.'

I was about to tiptoe over a broken plate when Hawke stepped over it himself and caught me up in his arms. I moved a little, trying to get my body comfortable in his hold. It felt strange having no real control over my legs, them having been draped over his arm like leather and lyrium-etched cloth.

'I am not a woman, Hawke, I can step over pottery by myself.' I chided with a frown.

He huffed and proceeded to carry me over the obstacle. 'You're right, a woman would know to wear shoes to protect her feet from situations like this.'

I rolled my eyes and he placed me back on my feet. My arms entangled round his waist, and his about my shoulders. I leaned against his chest which shook as he chuckled.

'Are you sure you're ok, Fenris?' A hand wound up to stroke my hair. 'You're awfully affectionate tonight.'

'I could have lost you,' I hesitated before adding, 'again.'

He rested his cheek atop my head. 'Fen, you never lost me, we've been over this. You needed time.'

'I was a fool. I needed you, but I was frightened; frightened that the only good thing I'd ever had would be taken from me.'

We were silent then, enjoying the feeling of having the other in our arms. Too soon for my liking, Hawke broke the spell.

'Fen,' finger crooked under my chin he tilted my head up, 'what do we do now?'

The fear must have shown for he kissed my lips chastely and stroked my left ear, running his thumb along to the point to try and soothe me. 'Ease, Love. I meant that we can't stay in Kirkwall. The remaining Templars won't be passive forever once they realise I didn't execute Anders. Moreover, the people of Kirkwall will be baying for my blood.'

'Then we run,' I replied, 'to Fereldan... or Orlais, it doesn't matter. We bide our time until we know what to do.'

He smirked. 'This is what you did over Danarius.'

'And it worked, did it not? I got my revenge, and walked away with my life intact. Perhaps you should think of long-term plans more often, Hawke.' I chuckled and brought my hand up to hold his cheek. 'But more importantly, had I not run and had I not bided my time these past years, I would never have met you and I would not know the wonder it is to love.'

'And be loved.' He added for me, smiling gently.

The past gruelling hours faded away. The fatigue and worry, fear and anger melted and transmuted into a simple joy at being alive and together. Hawke bowed his neck and captured my mouth, I returned the kiss as equally as it was given. Hands came about my back, fussing with the buckles and straps. Hawke was rewarded when my breastplate came away in his hands, and he discarded it to the chair beside us. Behind him I was trying to remove my gauntlets, but the metal fingers kept slipping on the leather. After succeeding in getting one off, I let my bare fingers comb through the fine velvet back of Hawke's robes. This was dangerous, we didn't have time when any moment Templars could come through the door. But neither of us cared. After all the heartache of the past few hours, we needed each other.

A cough and knock alerted us to the entranceway's door. Hawke turned around, leaving me to look at his back. He didn't hide me in shame, he merely knew I wouldn't like anyone but him to see me like this.

'What are you doing here, Anders?' The question was brimming with displeasure.

'To talk.' The other mage replied, his voice seeming to be regretful. 'Look, I know you told me to leave, Hawke, and I really will after this. But I need closure.'

'What closure?'

'Do you still call me a friend?'

I saw the muscles tense in Hawke's shoulders. No doubt his face was contorted in rage as well. I'd seen the stance often enough in battle when the foolhardy mage lets his emotions get the better of him, and he races past me to personally great an enemy with a fireball to the face.

'Anders, I have spent seven years working to make an alliance between Templars and mages. One by one, we solved their problems and showed the cause was neither completely one side's fault. We helped them find their children, kill their oppressors. Flames! I even watched as some mad blood mage cut my mother up and sewed her to parts of other women!' I placed a hand to his shoulder-blade. 'But still I was sympathetic to our brothers and sisters even though I now knew why the Templars feared them. I did my best to reason with Meredith and Orsino. Do you know I hoped in two years' time I could help reshape the Circle? There were talks about it becoming a school, Anders. Not a prison or an Imperium palace, a _school_.'

I remembered one of the evenings I had come for a reading lesson. At the time Hawke had been busying in the study over some stack of parchments and scrolls. When I had enquired to what he was doing, he showed me the plans he had drawn out; proposals for structured lessons at the Circle, rules that both mages and Templars would be expected to adhere to, what would happen if a student was found practicing blood magic, at what age a mage was to be taken to a Circle and what would happen once a mage was successfully through the Harrowing. He even told me that he would go through the process himself; go and spend a few years at the Circle and pass his own Harrowing though he was already a proven mage.

"How can I expect people to follow my word blindly, Fenris, when I haven't done it myself?"

To that I had promised my faith in him, and informed him that should he undertake such a task, I would train as a Templar to show my support for his dream and to help teach the other Templars about mages properly. We would live together at the Circle till his Harrowing was passed, and then spend our lives in Kirkwall correcting all the past wrongs. Kirkwall's Circle would become the new mould, instead of the nightmare told to keep mages awake at night.

Hawke's raised voice brought me back to the present.

'And now what do we have? Dead Sisters, rubble where a holy place once stood, a murdered Circle who turned to blood magic in the end, and several dozen Templars dead by my hand and that of their insane Knight-Commander, who used red lyrium in order to do what she felt was right IN REACTION TO YOUR ACTIONS!" The bellow shook the room, leaving me feeling a little out of sorts.

' _Our_ friends now have to flee for their lives or pick up the minute scraps of a living they can. I have to leave Kirkwall, likely forever, because of you. After the Fade my family went through to get here, and the Fade we encountered living here, after Fenris had decided and was staying with me here, I had hoped we could live out the rest of our lives in happiness. But you have destroyed that, Anders, and if either he or I should pay for your crimes in the future, know the other will seek you out and rend your life from this plane. So no, we cannot be "friends" any longer. You severed that possibility when you planned the destruction of the Chantry and used me in doing so.'

The abomination moved forward, his boots scuffing against the floor. 'Hawke-'

I'd had enough of hiding, rage flowing through my body, my markings lit. I stepped between the two of them, my arms out as if to cage Hawke with my body. Anders' sad expression turned to one of disgust we he looked at me, then the pain was back as he looked behind me to Hawke.

'You will go no further, abomination.' I growled. 'You have done enough.'

My lyrium was alive, singing for blood. One command from either myself or Hawke, and Anders would never part from the Fade again. He had dared to hurt the one person in this world who cared about everyone and everything; he had dared to use him for his own ends and turn his unconditional friendship into the ugly tattered scar that was the remains of the Chantry. Anders did not deserve to live.

He let a single tear fall. 'Hawke, I love you.'

'Get out.' Hawke ground out. When Anders made no attempt to move, he raised his voice to a booming command. 'I SAID, "GET OUT"!'

The abomination left with a sob, leaving nothing but the front door swinging gently in the evening breeze. I turned and took Hawke into my arms again, lyrium slowly ebbing to a cool whiteness. For a moment the doubts creeped in once more, the thought that wondered if he would race after Anders and choose the mage as his lover. I was no fool, it was obvious Anders held feelings for Hawke since the moment we met. Even I had picked up on it, oblivious as I was to love. The subtle flicks of his blonde hair, the way he leant down over his medical books only to cast his eyes up at Hawke. Not even Merrill could be naive enough not to see it. But each time Hawke had waved it away, found something else to talk about and left Anders with a little pout. Still, I had never heard the abomination declare it vocally. Fear was quickly accompanied by a new wave of anger.

Hawke encircled me with his own arms, tightly as if he was afraid I might run. 'I will not lose you because of that fool. We have worked too damn hard for this, Fenris. Flames...'

I stroked his cheek and pressed my lips to his for a second. All foolish notions fell from my head, and I swore to myself I would never doubt Hawke again. 'We need only each other, _Amatus_.'

He chuckled at that. 'Lock the door Fenris and get upstairs, I think I require further lessons in Tevene.'

I raised an eyebrow, I should have remembered Hawke was quick to recover. 'Really, Hawke? Aveline is likely straining to hold the guard back as it is, and the Templars could be here any minute.'

His gaze held me and I felt my lyrium warming up once more. 'Oh don't worry, I'm a quick learner.'

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Amatus._ = Tevene word used for one's lover, literally means "Beloved" or "Darling".**


	2. "Captain" Isabela

Two hours later, we raced through Lowtown to the docks. Stealth was out of the question given the pandemonium going on around us. Though the initial fighting was already over, a few surviving mages were still resisting the Templars and ever other turn was blocked by rubble or fire. Hawke had packed but a small bag of things: a pendant of his mother's with the twins' pictures inside, a rare book or two on magic, the documents proving his Amell lineage and finally as much gold as he could squeeze into the remaining space. He was ever the optimist, hoping one day we could return to Kirkwall and he could reclaim his family home. I didn't wish to hurt him, so I remained silent when he'd explained what he was taking and why. Often Hawke could hope enough for the both of us. 

'Fenris!' He yelled out suddenly, causing me to skid to a stop. His staff outcast he threw up a barrier, just as a lightning bolt was about to strike. 

' _Fasta vass_.' I grumbled, pulling my blade free of my back. 'Hawke, get to the docks.' 

'I'm going nowhere.' He smirked, waving his hand to drop the barrier. 

I rushed forward, lyrium illuminating what fire did not. As Hawke hurled an icebolt I skidded out the way and brought my blade up. The mage dodged the bolt, but it propelled him straight into my blade's path. Cloth does nothing to protect against a warrior's strength. He was dead before he hit the ground. Hawke came over as the blade was pulled from the corpse's shoulder, he was lamenting the front of my armour. 

'We _just_ cleaned you off.' 

'I use a blade.' I retorted. 'I am bound to be covered in blood more oft than not. Now come on.' 

I grabbed his hand and together we made for the waterfront again. Though I loved the man desperately, sometimes Hawke needed to be more serious. As I felt his fingers entwine with my own I chided myself. No, it was Hawke's cheeriness that brought us to him. We creatures of the shadows, nothing but masses of guilt, sorrow and regret, drawn to him like moths to a flame. A little pull, just to make him run level with me, and I caught a glance of the red about my wrist. A smile bloomed on my lips. 

The ship was impressive, you had to give Isabela that. Three years she had been renovating the old vessel into something of beauty, and now it was. The pale wood's lacquer shone in the dying light of the sun, and its glass as bright and clear as stars. She'd even had time to find and mount a figurehead upon the bow, which if you looked closely the elven woman had Dalish markings carved and painted into her cheeks and forehead. 

'Ahoy, there!' 

A call made us look up. What greeted us was Isabela, leaning over the rail with a tri-cornered hat on. She was _more_ than aware of her two girls trying to jump ship in this position, but did nothing to correct it. I turned my gaze to ensure Hawke was still in one piece. 

'Permission to come aboard, Izzy?!' He hollered. 

'That's _Captain_ Izzy to you, land-walker!' She laughed and then snapped her fingers, ordering the gangplank be lowered. 

'Hawke, I don't think Orlais heard you both.' I hissed, he returned it with a boyish grin. 

Once we were aboard, the gangplank was pulled back once again. The ship seemed even bigger once stood on her deck. The last time I'd been on a ship properly - without going back and forth the Gallows with Hawke - had been when I'd sailed from Llomerryn to Kirkwall. Picking an island hadn't been a wise choice when chased by slavers, but I'd hoped it would throw them off. It didn't, so I thought to lose myself in a trade city. Then I'd met Hawke. Isabela's ship was decidedly nicer than the one to Kirkwall; it didn't have rats and the sailors didn't gaze at me like a woman without a skirt on. 

'Welcome aboard _The Eluvian Princess_.' She said, arms stretched wide and rather pleased with herself. 'We're heading for Ferelden as our first stop, my darlings. Anywhere I can drop you off? Or am I to add a handsome apostate and gorgeous elf to my crew roster?' 

'Denerim, if you don't mind.' Hawke chuckled. 

'Ah, my old hangout.' Isabela smiled and placed a hand to her chin in mock-thought. 'I wonder if Zevran's back there yet.' 

'If he is, keep him busy.' I intoned. It wasn't hard to remember the flirtatious rogue and his wandering gaze. 

'Oh don't worry, my dear Fenris, I will.' She winked and then added: 'Speaking of love. On my ship loving is encouraged; the louder, the better. And since we just all survived a near-death experience, I expect to hear it at least twice daily.' 

'We'll keep that in mind.' Hawke laughed. I rolled my eyes to which he grinned. ' _Nolite solliciti Fenris, nos expectare. Volo omnes Ferelden audi nos._ ' 

I laughed, but turned it into a cough when I caught Isabela narrowing her eyes in delight. 'Aha, we shall see.' 

Her gaze snapped to Hawke. 

'Ooo, he's teaching you Tevene in the bedroom?' She cooed. 'How enlightening. Tell me Hawke, is it you or Fenris who plays the Magister? Does he like a little role-reversal?' 

'Enough.' I brought a hand up to silence her, trying to ignore the fact my cheeks were burning. 

'I have my answer.' She replied in a sing-song voice. With that she turned to go to her wheel; boot-heels clacking on the deck and hips swaying like a boat on the tide. 'Your cabin is below deck, I took the liberty of labelling it for you.' 

Though I often got on with Isabela, there were times when I wanted to punch her. Before I could even clench my fist, the mage demanded my attention with a yawn. 

'I need a lie down.' He stretched, looking down to me out the corner of his eye. 'And we never got to cuddle, what with all that imminent death and all.' 

Sometimes he couldn't help but make me smile. 

Below deck we found a mess hall, a library that doubled as Isabela's study and finally the guest cabins. Our getting lost I blame entirely on Hawke. The man has a strange sense of checking every room even when we know exactly where to go, which often leads me to wonder if Malcolm dropped him on his head as a child. Our rooms - as it turned out - were labelled by a piece of parchment trapped in the doorframe. Since all were still there, it seemed we were the first to arrive. 

'Go on, Fenris.' Hawke nudged me with his shoulder. 'You read it.' 

Isabela's handwriting was much more difficult to read than Hawke's, her letters curling and spiralling in ways I had not been taught they could. It took me a moment to recognise the lines and curves, the swipes and strokes. But eventually it became clear to me, mostly. 

' _"Hawke and-"_ ' I then shook my head. 

' _"Broody"_.' He chuckled, turning to look at the other doors. 'I can read _"Daisy"_ from here.' He wandered off down the hall, calling back to me. 'Ah here's _"Red plus one, just in case"_. Oh and _"Shorty and Bianca"_.' 

'You missed one.' I pointed to the cabin at the very end. 

'Didn't see that one.' He shrugged and walked over to it. 

'Well?' 

Something about Hawke changed. His form tensed, so I moved to him and slid my fingers into his. I looked at the parchment until the letters made sense, then I frowned. 

_"Blondie."_

###### 

Once Merrill was safely onboard, there was a scrabbling on the deck. Sails were opened, rigging tightened and a chorus of a shanty to the Maker, asking for safe passage. As she passed our door, I caught a snippet of Dalish; no doubt a prayer to her Gods for luck. I doubted Merrill had even been on a boat for an extended period of time. There was a lurch as the boat finally pushed off. We were free of Kirkwall. I only hoped what lay ahead was a better option. 

Hawke and I were laying in bed, finally allowing ourselves to relax. Aboard _The Eluvian Princess_ there was nothing we could do, save maybe help the crew once we were rested. You can't run or hide when you're at sea, and without pursuers we had no reason to fight. I curled myself tighter around Hawke, trying to ease his still-tense form. 

'Fen, are you asleep?' He tried to look over his shoulder at me. 

I shifted my face a little, his long hair tickling my nose. 'Thinking about it.' 

'Does it bother you?' He wriggled and rolled over in my arms. He wore a look of concern, not anger. 

'That the abomination is aboard? That he used and upset you? That he dared to confess his love in front of me?' It was growled through gritted teeth. 'Yes.' 

'Fen-' 

'I'm not mad with you.' I pulled his head to my shoulder and stroked his ebon locks. 'It's him I wish to end. Even putting my jealousy aside, he upsets you and that infuriates me.' 

'He said he'd stay away.' Hawke sighed and I felt everything in him release. 'So long as he keeps his promise, I'll be ok.' 

I said nothing, just letting him drift off in my arms. Nuzzling my nose into his hair I tried to unwind myself. There was, however, the grim truth that we were all on a finite ship floating at the sea for almost a week. The chances of bumping into Anders were very likely, unless he chose to live in his cabin for five days straight. The idea of nailing his door shut was getting more appealing by the second.  


###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Fasta vass._ = *a curse word* ******

******2) _Nolite solliciti Fenris, nos expectare. Volo omnes Ferelden audi nos._ = Don't worry Fenris, we'll wait. I want all of Ferelden to hear us.** ** **


	3. Future's Grace

Most would assume I do not like to be confined. This is not true if the situation is by my own choosing. As such I had little issue with staying aboard the ship and venturing only between our cabin and the deck. Hawke however grew restless before the first full day at sea even began. It was rather amusing to see him pace the cabin, only for him to leave for the deck and return within twenty minutes. My best did nothing to soothe him, and since our room's walls were parchment-thin I had vetoed our "activities" until we arrived in Denerim. The mage was bored, plain and simple. At this point I was beginning to think it a miracle he had never attended a Circle; the poor Templars would have had heart-attacks trying to keep up with his bored shenanigans.

On the second day, Merrill had attempted to get him to design new robes with her. With some of the meagre coin she had, she purchased silks from Isabela and had set about sewing them. Sadly Hawke had lost interest quickly in whether the sleeves should be elbow length or attached to the backs of her hands. It seemed the man had no curiosity in clothes, which I found odd because he spent enough time in Kirkwall debating between robes of all colours.  


  


"I don't know. I don't think I look good in blue." He mumbled, touching the fabric of the red robes before him and ignoring the sky-blue held out by the merchant. "Fenris, help me out here." 

"Choose whichever you like." I had sighed. "It's just a colour, Hawke." 

He bought the red set, and thankfully it hadn't taken long to pay and head back towards his home in Lowtown. On the way we lost Varric and Isabela to _The Hanged Man_ , allowing a silence to fall between us both. We hadn't known each other long enough for it to be comfortable, and I was still on edge awaiting the first flicker of magic headed my way. But the mage seemed content and completely at ease, even humming some old Fereldan tune under his breath. As we stopped at the bottom of the stairs to Gamlen's house he turned to look at me, clutching the parcel to his chest. 

"Fenris?" Hawke looked to his arms a second. "What's your favourite colour?" 

I grunted and watched him carefully. "I do not-" 

"You have to have one." He laughed, and then met my gaze. "Or at least, one you prefer." 

After some thought I gave my answer. "Blue, I suppose." 

He had said his goodbye and left me to take the long walk back to Hightown. There I'd gotten suitably drunk and passed out on the bench by the fire. The next day we were scheduled to clear out the Bone Pit and rescue some of the workers trapped inside. Hawke had come to collect me first, in his new set of sky-blue robes.

  


'You'll never make it as a sailor with this attitude.' Isabela chided the wandering mage. 

We'd come up onto the deck after his disappointment in Merrill's sewing lesson. As I leaned against the mast and watched the seabirds circle overhead, Hawke had been pacing the deck and occasionally looking over the side. He told me he was looking for fish when I warned him not to lean too far. Isabela stood beside me, watching him with an arched brow. 

'What do you do at sea for fun then?' He moaned in return. 

She smirked. 'Well-' 

'Not happening, Isabela.' I snapped, arms folded over my chest. 

'The elf holding back on you, Hawke?' She pursed her lips in mock-sympathy. 'Well not to worry, come to my cabin and I'm sure I can keep you entertained for a few hours.' 

'No thanks.' He laughed and gave me an apologetic look before turning to the pirate once more. 'It's just, there's nothing to do. Don't your men need any help?' 

'Nope. If I let you help them now, then they get lazy when I've dropped you all off.' She explained placing a hand on her hip. 'And not all of our guests in the future will be willing to pitch-in, so they need to get used to the hard work.' 

'There must be _something_.' Hawke pleaded. 

She chuckled. 'Oh fine, you win. Tell you what, I'll let you practice your magic on deck and I'll keep the boys quiet about seeing an apostate. But if I find one scorch mark on my lacquer, Hawke, I'll have your insides to thicken tonight's broth.' 

And that was how the competitions began. They were nothing too serious, just our group of comrades pitting ourselves one against another to see who would win. There was little certainty in the outcome, after all no one was going all out so we could never truly tell who would have won. But it did kill time between meals and rest, and it ensured our bodies didn't forget battle too easily. It was strange to watch the others. In a fight I was normally at the front line, and by the time blood started flowing I was so lost in my lyrium daze nothing but my enemies seemed to capture my attention. But to see Varric artfully flick the bolts round his fingers before loading, to see how before each spell Merrill performed a short skipping dance and a twirl of her staff, it was almost theatrical. 

Not that I would know what such art looked like. My memories of Tevinter events were not happily thought of, and though Hawke had often tried to drag me along to a dance held for nobility of Hightown, I'd refused. Whether it was because of my markings or that I stood beside the Champion of Kirkwall, I held no desire to be stared at and whispered about. Despite my refusals Hawke assured me it was highly satisfying to see the look on noble faces when he announced he was already spoken for. He said the only thing better would be for me to appear beside him and take his arm. When the mage joked that he wanted to see noblewomen faint with shock, I had laughed and promised him I would attend the next dance just for him. We had never gotten the chance. Two weeks later, the Chantry was rubble. 

'Come on Hawke.' Varric goaded. 'You fight like a woman in that skirt!' 

'It's a robe!' He corrected, launching a triple icebolt at Varric's middle. 

Despite his stature the dwarf was surprisingly light on his feet. He jumped to the side, rolled and stood once more. Finger pressed to the trigger, Bianca fired a volley of dud-bolts. A barrier came up in a shine of blue light. His staff held the spell steady as his cupped hand illuminated with a pulse of white magic. The barrier came down and he tossed it towards Varric. The rogue let it hit and smiled as the white mist coursed over him, soothing every ache and healing over the last of his bruises. 

'Hawke, why are you tossing heals in th-' 

He was caught off-guard when Hawke darted behind him and took his legs out with a swipe of his staff. Now kneeling on the floor with Bianca out of reach, Varric conceded defeat with his hands held up. 

'Alright, explain.' He chuckled to the mage, going to collect his precious crossbow. 

'In battle you're used to running _into_ my heals.' Hawke folded his arms in smugness. 'So your body naturally reacts and heads straight for the spell, whilst you're distracted doing such, I can get behind you.' 

Varric boomed a laugh. 'Very good, I'll have to watch out for subconscious reactions then.' 

Hawke slapped him on the back and Merrill brought over drinks from the kitchens. They downed a mug of water each and then set about drinking their pint of ale. I thanked the younger elf as she handed me the wine bottle, uncorked. It was true I'd never liked Merrill, her blood magic being the main reason, but if you ignored that I supposed she wasn't a bad person. She was extremely naive and far too trusting of everything, but on the whole a good person. Besides, she and Hawke had had a good long talk after the death of her clan. Afterwards the mirror lay shattered, and Merrill swore never to use blood magic or demonic aid again. I half-wondered how she felt about Isabela's ship-name. But when I spoke to the Captain, she said she'd named it before the whole thing happened and it was too late to change it now.

'Are you going to spar today, Fenris?' She asked cheerily. 'Or are you just watching?' 

I swigged from the bottle and chuckled. 'I'm not sure. Hawke seems to be having too much fun to ask if I can have a turn.' 

She giggled in return. 'Yes, he does rather enjoy this it seems. I'm glad we can talk now. I felt so lonely, even in the Alienage. It's nice to talk to another elf who understands.' 

'I can't understand being a mage.' I replied, perhaps a little too bluntly for her ears drooped. 'That is true of you or Hawke, but I try to. As for being an elf, are we really that different from humans? We have hearts and brains. We walk on two legs and feel hunger and pain, love and happiness as they do. Why draw such a line at our height and the shape of our ears?' 

'You could be right.' Merrill paused to sip her lemonade, a little brighter now. 'But we have a culture and a history, Fenris, just like humans do. We shouldn't forget it.' 

'That is easy for Dalish to say,' I sighed, 'but I am not Dalish and I am not even truly a City Elf. I was a slave, I had no culture save what was inflicted upon me by my master and my life before these markings is lost to me. If my mother ever taught me of what it is to be _Elvhen_ , it's gone now.' 

Merrill frowned sadly. 'I could help you if you like.' 

'Thank you, but it doesn't matter to me now.' I took another sip. 'I am who I am, and so long as I stand at Hawke's side I will be a happy man.' 

'Oh, I hope I can be as happy one day.' She smiled. 

We both looked to Hawke, who was currently trying to beat Varric in a "stare, don't laugh" contest. 'I hope so too.' 

###### 

There is a saying in Tevinter: _Vera felicitas sit levis meretrix_. Roughly in the Fereldan tongue it translates to "True happiness is a fickle whore", a fact I am sadly inclined to believe. On the third evening at sea we sat in the mess hall, long after the other sailors had eaten and gone to bed. Varric produced a deck of cards, Isabela hunted out more ale and our usual game of Wicked Grace began. It was as if we had never left Kirkwall. That for one moment we could forget all that had happened and just pretend was blissful. Surrounded by wooden tables and benches, in the dim candlelight it was as if we were back in _The Hanged Man_ after another of Hawke's ludicrous adventures. 

It was Hawke who drew the Angel of Death, calling for our hands. 

'Three serpents.' Isabela snorted and tossed her cards to the centre. 

'Two knights, bust.' 

' _Venhedis_ , not a single match.' 

A chuckle. 'Bad luck Broody, I got three songs.' 

'Erm... I have four swords, is that good?' We all looked to Merrill in surprise. 

'It means you won, Daisy.' Varric laughed again and pushed the small pile of gold towards her. His glance in my direction confirmed my theory; he'd cheated in such a way she would win. I didn't blame him, the girl had spent too much on cloth on this journey, she needed the coin more than any of us. 

'So,' Isabela mused whilst shuffling again, 'I know I'm to drop Hawke and Fenris off in Denerim, but what about you two? Didn't you mention Orlais, Varric?' 

'Aye, that I did.' He nodded. 'I think it's best I get far away from the north for a while.' 

'Don't we all?' She laughed. 'And what will you be doing in Orlais? Sampling cheeses and dancing with the daughters of Princes?' 

He took a large mouthful of ale before answering. 'Nothing so fanciful, no. I'm going to work on my next epic, it'll take some time but I know this one will be a big seller.' 

'I'm intrigued.' Hawke narrowed his eyes in jest. 'What's the story, Varric?' 

'Oh nothing you'd be interested in.' He waved a dismissive hand. 'Some fantastical story of a dashing apostate helping those in need, suffering life's fates.' 

He chuckled over the lip of his mug. 'And how will the story end?' 

The dwarf shrugged. 'I'm not sure. I'm leaning towards having the hero fall madly in love with the magic-hating elf he rescues from slavers. But I don't know if that ending's too unrealistic.' 

'It sounds beautiful.' Merrill smiled, her cheeks blushed from the alcohol. 'Will you send me a copy when it's done? Please Varric, oh please?' 

'Consider it done, Daisy.' He nodded. 

'It's too sweet.' Isabela pulled a tongue. 

'Then I'd be happy to hear your contributions, Rivani.' 

'Please don't.' I groaned. 

I'd had enough of Isabela's "Friend Fiction" when we'd lived in Kirkwall, though I had to admit sometimes the things were good to laugh at. Whenever Hawke and I had managed to steal a hard copy from her we'd shut ourselves in the library or Hawke's room, and he would read it to me in comical voices. The things were tossed on the fire as soon as the joke wore out, but I'd noticed him tuck one under his mattress once. I'd not had the time to fetch it out and burn it, so I just had to pray if his house was raided that no one would look at it. The idea of a Templar reading such lust-filled smut about the Champion and his lover was... undesirable. 

'So where are you headed, Merrill?' Thank the Maker for that beautiful mage and his charisma. He changed the topic without anyone wondering why, or feeling snubbed at it being cut short. 

'Oh, I'm going to Denerim too.' She replied, not noticing Isabela swapping her wine for water. 'I want to speak to the elves in the Alienage. Apparently they've experienced an improvement in how they are treated once the Warden Commander became their ambassador, and the monarchy started taking interest in elves. I want to know how I can help the Alienages in the Free Marches when I go back.' 

'I wouldn't get your hopes up on speaking to the Warden Commander herself. She's been coming and going for years, or so I've heard.' 

The voice came from the doorway. It was one I was not pleased to hear again. My lyrium lit the dim space with a flare of blue, and though Hawke placed a gentle hand on my arm I did not calm down. The abomination merely stood there, watching us carefully. In his arms was a purring tabby, no doubt Isabela's ship-cat. 

'You knew Tabris, didn't you?' Hawke kept all emotion out of his voice, but his gaze was nothing less than stony. 

'We both did.' Isabela chimed, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. 'She travelled with Zevran at the time, and even came to me to see about training as a duellist. She had no tact as a dancer though. Two left feet, a real shame. I heard she trained as a bard after our lessons, hopefully her singing is better.' 

'She used to fill Amaranthine Keep with the most wonderful song.' Anders mused, scratching between the cat's ears. 'I miss it sometimes.' 

'If you miss her, why did you leave?' I retorted. 'If you were so enamoured with the woman, why not stay at her side?' 

'I wasn't in love with her.' He snapped, fixing his furious gaze on me. For a second I thought I saw Justice flare in those eyes. 'I just miss her sometimes, like you miss a sister or a friend, alright? Anyway, even if I had been interested she was already promised to another by then.' 

'Ooo, yes I remember.' Isabela gave a little wriggle of delight. 'That strapping blonde with the gorgeous blue eyes. What was his name again?' 

'Alistair.' He replied. 

'Ah yes, that's right.' 

'The Hero of Ferelden is seeing the King?!' Hawke's eyes widened and he gripped my arm tight in surprise. I tried to restrain myself from wrenching his hand clean off. The markings muddled my thoughts when I was angry and he never deserved to be at the receiving end of them. It took some suppressing, but I finally managed to quell the lyrium's singing. 

'He was just Alistair when they started courting, she told me.' Anders explained. 'She didn't find out he was a Prince until they arrived in Redcliffe, and it was after the Landsmeet that it was decided he would be King. When Alistair said he would take Tabris as his bride, the nobles laughed them down. No one would accept an elven Queen, especially if she was a City Elf. So they had to break it off in order for Alistair to ascend the throne.' 

'You said she was spoken for when you knew her.' Varric pointed out, starting on another ale. It was clear the dwarf was marking this down in the back of his head, another story to be told. 

'She is, sort of.' The cat purred in his arms, demanding attention again. 'Tabris told me she would never love another man, and that the Wardens would be her life, her children.' 

It irked me how normality was starting to return with the abomination near us. It was no one's fault, we'd been allied with Anders far longer than enemies. But I still couldn't forgive what he'd done to Hawke. It seemed the Champion was letting it drop however at least to a civil level, so for him I would tolerate the insane mage in our presence. Tolerate, however, did not mean I was going to be nice to him. 

'We were discussing plans.' Isabela motioned him to sit beside her, and shoved a beer down the table to the seat. 'So, where are you off to?' 

'Denerim as well.' He ignored the beer and took instead to focussing on the feline now in his lap. 'I have heard there is a mage there - a Grand Enchanter - who is like I am, bonded to a spirit. She is at peace with her spirit, and I want to know if she can help me revert Vengeance into Justice, or if not then how to remove him from me completely.' 

Raising the wine bottle to my lips I muttered, 'And what foul demon did she strike a bargain with?' 

'Faith.' Anders replied, trying to keep his voice level. I suspected he didn't want to shatter this renewed amicability. 'Faith is a healing spirit, one who draws her power from belief and love. The Grand Enchanter is well-loved by the Warden Commander, so should you ever meet her I'd speak only kindly of Wynne.' 

'I've heard Tabris also had a Qunari and a Witch of the Wilds amongst her friends.' Varric chimed in. 

'Also true.' Isabela pointed a finger at him in emphasis, then laughed. 'Tabris was a strange one. But no stranger than you and the company you keep, Hawke.' 

He chuckled and stole a swig from my wine since his mug was empty. 'Well my strange band of misfits, are we playing cards or are we going to discuss the fabulous Tabris all night?' 

Isabela took it as a cue to dish out the cards to each player. I did not miss that her deft fingers slipped a spare knight into her own hand. 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Elvhen._ = Elven word for themselves, literally meaning "Our People".**

**2) _Vera felicitas sit levis meretrix._ = True happiness is a fickle whore.**

****3) _Venhedis._ = *a curse word*** **


	4. Merrill helps

It was the last day of our trip, or so Isabela called loudly from the bridge. On the horizon the coast of Ferelden rose, and Hawke's mood had cheered considerably the closer we sailed. King Alistair had once asked Hawke if he would ever return to the milder shores, if he would ever consider it home again. The Champion had responded that Kirkwall was his home now, and I had had suspicions it was because we all dwelt there. What were the chances of one man persuading seven others to leave what little normality they had to begin again abroad? Throw a crazed apostate blowing up a Chantry and your chances are pretty high. He'd managed to gather five of us, at least. Aveline staying behind to clear up the mess, and Sebastian making for Starkhaven like Andraste Herself was on his heels. I worried about the Chantry Brother over our time at sea. Though the two of us had gotten along reasonably well, he now swore doom upon Kirkwall and Hawke for letting Anders live. I lay awake with Hawke curled in my arms. Could I protect him from a Prince's wrath? There was no "could" about it. I would defend him till my last breath. The mage wriggled a little closer, his fingers curling on my shoulder.

'I-I don't want to get involved.' He moaned, holding me tighter.

I hushed him gently and caressed his dark hair. Nightmares plagued him at least three times a night. We had both woken to him screaming, sweating and cursing and on one occasion he actually kicked me from the bed. A particularly dazing dream had had him still confused when he woke up. He had scrambled for his staff, convinced I had sided with the Templars, that I meant to end him despite everything we'd been through. That had been a tricky one to counter, I'd had to hold him as he thrashed and soothe him with words, which sadly was not one of my stronger abilities. Hawke had gone back to sleep and woken hours later, wondering why his staff was being babysat by Varric.

'It's over, Hawke.' I whispered. 'You're safe, we're safe.'

There was a knock at the door. Carefully I untangled the mage from me, and pulled the covers up to his chin. There was little to easily throw over my smallclothes, so I opted for Hawke's robe. Far too big, but it covered me at least. Opening the door revealed Merrill, all dressed up in her new green and gold silk robes. She blushed a little seeing my state of dress, and brought a hand to her mouth.

'Ah Fenris, _ir abelas_!'

'Don't be, we were sleeping.' Peeking over my shoulder revealed Hawke hadn't disturbed. 'Well, Hawke is.'

'Oh, I see.' She dropped her voice to a whisper. 'I was wondering - well - I know you and Hawke are in hiding while in Ferelden, and your markings, they- well they stick out a bit.'

'Your point?' I mumbled, it was really too early for this.

'I was thinking I could help; you know, help disguise you.' She brandished a bag she held in her left hand. 'I have some paints that mimic _vallaslin_ , if we paint them over your facial markings and add a few more, you could pass for Dalish. So long as you don't get angry and glow, I mean.'

I mused on this a moment, and gave another look back to Hawke. My markings had been what mostly hindered my flight from Danarius. No one remembers some elf. Everyone remembers an elf with glowing markings. Though the idea of concealing myself did not really appeal, it would make it easier for Hawke and I to travel unopposed and unrecognised. Looking back to the woman I nodded.

'Very well. But might we do this later, when I am less likely to fall asleep in the chair?'

' _Ma serannas_ Fenris!' She smiled and gave a little hop of joy.

'I should be thanking you.' I laughed gently.

'Yes, well, what I meant to say was thank you for trusting me.' Suddenly she found her feet very interesting. 'Well, I better let you rest. Say good morning to Hawke for me.'

When I closed the door, he was awake and looking at me with bleary eyes and a grin that could split his face in half.

'You're going to be Dalish?'

I smirked and removed his robe from my shoulders, slipping back into bed beside him. 'The things one will do for love is maddening.'

###### 

We were three or so hours from port when we went to see Merrill. Her cabin was smaller than ours, with only a single bed and a small table and chair. She seemed happy, saying it reminded her of the aravels. Whilst the elf mixed her paints, I sat on the bed with Hawke; him holding my hand and stroking his thumb over my knuckles. I disliked being touched, and only over time and patience had Hawke and I been able to. Though they were incredibly sensitive my markings caused me little pain, save when they'd been active or when I was near magic. Having spells cast upon me was like dipping my body in liquid agony; but as with Hawke's gentle handling, over the years we spent in Kirkwall I had become used to his magic. Anders' felt like knives opening wounds never mind how "relaxing" Isabela assured me it was. It would take everything in me not to flinch when Merrill painted my face. Before we had arrived I had almost thought about asking Hawke if he would do it, but he'd pre-empted my question and explained Merrill knew Dalish designs, and he didn't have that steady a hand.

'Have you thought about which pattern you'd like?' She asked brightly, a pot of deep green in her palm.

'Just cover the markings.' I grunted. 'Add enough embellishment to make it look Dalish and that will be fine. Remember I have to replicate it later on my own.'

She nodded and sized me up a moment, no doubt trying to pick a design she felt would suit me. I bit my lip to stop from swearing as Merrill suddenly reached out and moved my bangs out of the way.

'I didn't know you had markings on your forehead.' She spoke of the three small dots forming a triangle on my brow. I didn't answer and she removed her hand. 'I think I know the one. It'll hide your neck markings too, since it features the same one. It's odd now I think about it. Did your master use a Dalish design for them?'

'I don't know.' I clenched Hawke's hand tighter. The face was one thing, but now she wanted to touch my neck as well? 'He never told me anything about them. In truth I don't believe he knew anything of them save what abilities I discovered on my own.'

'Well they say _Elvhen_ were once amongst the greatest magic users.' She wondered to herself, wetting a thin brush in the paint. 'Hold as still as you can please, Fenris. This will be cold till it dries.'

An hour I sat there as she drew first over my markings, and then swirled and dotted patterns from them and onto the rest of my face and neck. I flinched once when she first stroked the bristles on my cheekbone, which had earned me a disapproving look and a coarser stroke with a damp linen cloth. At one point she had run out of paint and began desperately rummaging through her satchel. The best thing she had was a deep blue to finish the extra designs, which she assured me wouldn't matter, and that once they dried they'd look almost the same. Finally she sat back in the chair and wiped her hands clean on a new cloth.

'All done, Fenris.' She beamed. 'Go look in the mirror then!'

Stiff from not moving, I rose to my feet and over to the mirror on her wall. Though from my collar down I was exactly the same, my face now looked like a completely different elf. As Merrill had promised, every inch of my markings were covered, and the scrolling she had decorated them with was tasteful and not too bold. She had a delicate hand and an eye for art. I turned to look at Hawke, who was choking down some joke. He couldn't hold it.

' _Ir abelas Elvh_ ,' he snorted, 'but have you seen where Fenris went?'

I sighed, resisting an urge to put a hand to my forehead in case the paint smudged. 'Are you to make Dalish jokes at me all day, Hawke?'

'Only till I run out of them, _ma vehnan_.' He winked.

'You are the only man I know with a talent for languages, who wastes them on such childish humour.' As I rolled my eyes, Merrill giggled.

We accompanied Merrill on deck afterwards, spending our last hours enjoying the sea breeze and the feel of the wind in our hair. Denerim loomed closer, bringing with it the sounds and smells of a city in full capacity. Fishing boats darted around the sides of _The Eluvian Princess_ , cargo-holds filled with fish. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, choosing to watch the coastline again. The ship finally pulled into dock, and gave a lurch as the sailors tossed a mooring line off the side to the men below. The Captain herself came down from her perch on the bridge and took her hat off with a flourishing bow.

'Well, I suppose this is it, my lovelies.' She straightened and gave a smile that quivered at one end.

Hawke stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

'I hate goodbyes.' She sniffed, trying desperately to regain her composure. 'It's why I always slip off when no one expects it.'

'Well then this isn't goodbye.' He smiled. 'It's just "See you later".'

'Aye,' she nodded, 'that I can live with.'

The pirate practically suffocated Merrill with her chest, refusing to let the elf go till she promised she would write at least once a week. And Hawke and Varric gave each other a handshake that ended up as a hug anyway. As we descended the gangplank I thought I had gotten away without having to go near the pirate Queen. She had other thoughts on the matter and promptly slapped me across the rear.

'I'll miss watching that ass in battle!' She called with a wave.

It took everything in me to stop my lyrium from glowing with a forced smile.

###### 

We wandered the city a while, Hawke, Merrill and I. We saw no sign of Anders and I felt that was for the best. I really did not need the abomination seeing me dressed like this and adding to my fury. After finding the market Hawke bought me a set of leather armour that didn't have holes to reveal my markings, along with new gauntlets, boots and a hooded cloak. It was not that I couldn't walk in shoes, but the damned things impeded my movements something horrid; I couldn't dash since they couldn't grip the dirt as well as my toes could. I decided they would do for walking, but should we ever anticipate battle I was to go barefooted, markings be damned. The mage also bought himself armour, choosing a light plate set. I had looked at him curiously when he sold his staff, handed me a set of daggers and mounted my blade on his back. Later, when we were alone he explained it to me.

'They'll be looking for a mage and a warrior elf, not a warrior and a rogue elf.'

I had only hoped he was right.

Merrill was itching to visit the Alienage, and so we said we would accompany her until she found somewhere to stay. The woman was like younger sister to Hawke, and the idea of abandoning her in a big city felt cruel. The Elven living quarter was in considerably better nick than the one in Kirkwall ever was. The houses were bright and new, the gate permanently open and elves coming to and from as they pleased without guards watching them. The place seemed to cheer Merrill straight away, and she seemed oblivious to the glances the other elves gave us.

'Mama, Dalish!' A child cried, pointing our way.

'Hush, it's rude to point.' She pulled the child's hand down and then looked to us and curtsied low. ' _Ir abelas_.'

'Don't be sorry.' Merrill beamed, kneeling down to the child's height. 'He's just curious, and that's a good trait to have amongst _Elvhen_.'

She let the boy come closer and gently touch her markings, to which his mother seemed very hesitant until she saw Merrill wouldn't harm him for doing so.

'Can I have lines on my face too?' The child looked up to me and then back to Merrill with huge blue eyes.

'Maybe one day, _da'len_.' She smiled and motioned for him to return to his mother's side.

'Alright, what's going on out here?! A parade?!' A loud voice called, heading in our direction. Cutting through the people a red-haired elf revealed herself, her face contorted in anger. The frown slipped when we looked to her. 'Ah! _Ir abelas_!'

'It's fine.' Merrill laughed once more. 'My name is Merrill, and this is-'

'Garrett.' Hawke inclined his head. 'And this is Leto.'

I tried not to look at him in surprise and simply bowed my neck. 'A pleasure.'

'I'm Shiani.' The red-head curtsied. 'I'm the Elder here, and Denerim's Elven Ambassador till my cousin gets back. So how can I help you?'

'We're just passing through.' Hawke indicated to himself and I. 'But Merrill here wishes to learn more of City Elves and your ways. I was hoping to find someone to look after her while she learns?'

Shiani mused a moment then nodded. 'I can take her in. I've got a bed that she can have, but she'll have to help with the housework.'

'I will!' Merrill smiled. 'I'm good at housework, or at least I kept my place clean.'

'It's settled then.' The other elf welcomed her over to her side of the huddle. 'If that will be all, gentlemen, I believe I need to get this Alienage back in working order.'

'Thank you for your help.' Hawke gave a gracious smile, before letting Shiani turn away.

She turned back as we were about to head off. 'Oh, and congratulations _shem'vehnan_.'

I blinked. _Shem'vehnan_ meant "Human's Heart", a term for a human's elven lover. Surely by just standing beside Hawke I hadn't come across as such, had I? I discreetly looked myself over and wondered if something I wore had given that impression, but the only thing was the red favour that meant nothing to anyone save Hawke and myself. As we left the Alienage similar things were uttered to us, not maliciously but in genuine congratulations. Just when I was starting to wonder if I was going mad, someone ran up behind us. It was a very out of breath Merrill.

'I-I forgot, _ir abelas_.' She bent over, clutching her knees for support as she panted. 'The _vallaslin_ I put on you, blue does mean something. So you might want to get more green and fix it on the way out.'

'Merrill.' I growled in a warning tone. 'What does blue mean?'

She winced as she stood straight and now twiddled her thumbs. 'It - err - it's painted on an elf during the moon cycle before they're wed.'

I sighed and then glared at her as she dared to continue. 'It's - well - it's specifically painted on the bride.'

'Merrill...'

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Ir abelas._ = I'm sorry.**

**2) _Vallaslin._ = The markings Dalish tattoo onto their faces, literally it means "Blood Writing".**

**3) _Ma serannas._ = Thank you.**

**4) _Elvhen._ = Elven work for their race, literally means "Our People".**

**5) _Elvh._ = Elven word for Elf.**

**6) _Ma vehnan._ = My heart, used like "My love" or "My darling".**

**7) _Da'len._ = Child.**

**8) _Shem'vehnan._ = Literally "Human's Heart", a word used for a human's elven lover or bride. (Non-canon)**


	5. The Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little warning:  
> This chapter contains implied M-Preg, but it's only during a dream-sequence and is not story-canon.

We were a day out of Denerim and already my anger was at its limit. Even though I now wore completely green paint, a Dalish travelling alone with a human still attracted too much attention. Hawke said the trip would be easier now we had left the city behind, I was less inclined to believe so. The late summer heat was making it almost unbearable. The sweat on my brow always threatening to leave my new markings in green trails down my face. When I grew irritated enough to curse Hawke stopped and pulled my hood over my head, a little smirk on his face as always. 

'Now you can sweat all you like, 'kay?' 

How I didn't end his life there is beyond me. 

By mid-afternoon we were walking besides a small brook spanning some length of forested road. I had thought we would press on, after all Lothering was another three days walk, but Hawke out of nowhere stood my sword in the ground blade-first and sat beside it in the shade of an oak tree. I frowned. The blade took an age to sharpen properly and it did not like damp. Did he not know that the earth would taint the metal? With a grumble I sat cross-legged opposite him, leaning against a smaller tree. Somewhere high above a squirrel leapt across two branches, sending down a small cascade of leaves. The human seemed completely at peace, his eyes resting shut and his chest gently heaving in and out. It was the first time Hawke had been peaceful since the incident a week before. I looked to my hands in my lap and sighed, anger forgotten. 

'Why Leto?' 

He opened one eye sleepily and grinned. 'You're always so curious.' 

'Don't be an ass, H-' I bit my tongue. 'Garrett.' 

'You're still not used to my name.' He chuckled and woke up properly then, shifting himself into more of a sitting position. 'I don't know why you don't use my name all the time.' 

'You weren't Garrett when I first knew you.' I explained, looking up to him now. My words were chosen carefully in case there was anyone listening I couldn't see. 'At least, not to us. I suppose the name stuck and that's just how I came to know you.' 

'I wish you would use it more often, I like the way you say it.' 

I couldn't look at him as we both blushed and turned our faces away. Inwardly I chided myself. We had been as intimate as a married couple and yet we still reacted like this in romantic verbal situations. I had been determined this last year that I would make up for all the mistakes I had made. To Hawke I would prove my dedication and devotion to him, whether it meant my life or my death. As we chanced a glance at one another, my chest convulsed and I closed my eyes. It was like being in Kirkwall all over again; I could hear their voices as they crowded round me in _The Hanged Man_ : 

_"Awww you're in love! Fenris, it's so sweet!"_

_"It's not love, he likely has a fever. It'll impact on the next mission, so I'll look you over if you come to Darktown."_

_"Oh hush, Justice. What he needs is to grab Hawke and throw him against-"_

_"Whoa there Rivani! Let me get my quill first!"_

_"Andraste, Bride of the Maker, hear my prayers. Punish not my friends for their unchaste thoughts, they know not what they do..."_

Now my head was pounding from heat-exhaustion, embarrassment and their imaginary chatter. My attention was grabbed back by the noise of Hawke rustling about in front of me. He'd taken to spreading out his cloak on the ground and pulling out packages from his satchel. Catching his eye, he grinned at me and sat back on his heels. 

'Thought you might be hungry.' He motioned to the packages. 'I managed to find cheese, bread, some berries - though if I'm honest I have no idea what they are - and just for my favourite elf...' He fumbled in the bag a little more till his gauntlet clinked against something. With a tug he brandished a full bottle of Agreggio. 'Ta-dah!' 

'That must've cost you a fortune.' I smiled, taking it when he passed it. Uncorking it with my teeth I took a long drink. 

'Worth every sovereign.' 

I coughed, spilling some on my cloak's neck. 'Sovereigns? Haw-Garrett, do you even have that kind of coin?' 

He shrugged with a chuckle and removed his gauntlets, beginning to divide the food into two equal portions. I sipped the wine from then on as we passed it between us, partly missing the days in Kirkwall when I had enough to decorate the walls with let alone just drink. The lunch was much appreciated, and I found the heat didn't quite bother me as much anymore. There by the stream I wanted time to stand still for a moment, just so that Hawke and I could be this way a little longer. We didn't know what lay ahead, and we were all too familiar with our hectic pasts - well, the more recent years of mine. There in that second we were together and happy. If this was what Ferelden offered me, I would never think of the Free Marches or Seheron again. 

'I'm beginning to see why mother and father did this.' The mage chuckled; now lying flat on his back, one arm behind his head and the other resting over his stomach contentedly. 

'Hmm?' I was in the process of removing my boots, hoping to dip my blistered feet in the cool water before we pressed on. 

'They did what we did, you know.' He rolled onto his side, the corners of his mouth turning up. 'Fell in love in Kirkwall, faced a terrible situation and ran to Ferelden to escape it all.' 

'It seems the Maker has a sense of humour then.' I laughed. 'Like father, like son.' 

'He didn't have a bad life once they crossed the Waking Sea.' Hawke watched me as I padded across the grass, sighing with relief as the water washed over my aching soles. 'They bought a farm in Lothering and got married at the Chantry there before I was born, and then a few years later they had Carver and Bethany.' 

'You were almost born out of wedlock? The scandal.' I hissed a laugh and he threw a pebble at my shoulder. 'So that was the trouble they were running from? The Amell household finding out that their precious daughter carried the spawn of a mage.' 

'I was a very cute spawn, I'll have you know.' I could feel his pout at my back. 

'I'm sure you were, _Amatus_.' 

'Leto.' His voice slipped into a jokey warning. 

' _Ma vehnan_.' I corrected myself. 'Which reminds me,' I looked over my shoulder at him, 'you didn't answer my question.' 

'What question was that? Was it "how much I love you"? Because if so we could be hear all season answering that one.' 

'You know what I meant.' 

He paused a moment. 'Alright, I'll tell. I called you that for two reasons. Firstly, I panicked and that was the first name that came into my head when I looked at you that wasn't-' He looked about and decided it was safe enough. ' _Fenris_.' 

'Fair enough.' I shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. 'Your second reason?' 

'It was the only name that came to mind because I've been thinking, and this is my second reason.' He continued a little more carefully now. Sensing his mood shift I moved to completely face him. 'It was Danarius who called you Fenris, taking your real name from you and collaring you as his dog, his pet. But years before that your mother looked at you in her arms, and with hopes and dreams and a mother's unconditional love she named you Leto. To her that name was as precious as all the gold in Thedas, because it was yours and you were her child. Danarius stole that from you, and I- I might not be able to bring all your memories back, but I can at least give you your name.' 

I couldn't look at him, so my eyes found the grass between my fingers. 'Varania could have been lying, I don't know if that is my real name.' 

He closed the gap between us and tilted my chin up gently. 'I know a lie when I see one, and she told nothing but the truth. This is the name you deserve.' 

Eyes stinging I tried desperately to blink back tears. This remarkable man who could see good in all people, who was like Andraste's angel sent to our world, how was it he could see something in me? I was an ex-slave, an elf of all things. Yet there he was, looking at me like I was worth something. Not an exhibition in a Tevinter mansion, not a servant with pointed ears or a shadow to fear in the Hightown streets at night. To Hawke I was a person, the one he chose to love. I let my tears fall for him. 

'Garrett, I am yours.' 

He smiled warmly and stroked them away with his thumb. 'You belong to no man, Leto.' 

Gently he brought his lips to mine, and I savoured the kiss. Hawke chuckled softly, and through my closed eyelids I could see my markings beginning to illuminate. Without pulling away, the mage deftly pulled my hood over my head and wrapped my cloak around the two of us, preventing the blue light from escaping. It didn't remove all the glow, nothing could, but at least the sunlight dispersed the rest. I was only thankful it was not yet dusking. Without anything to interrupt, our embrace lasted until we were both out of breath and trying to reign our thoughts in from venturing to other things. My hands practically twitched at my new armour's fastenings, but I balled them into fists. Still travelling on the road was not the time. However, whenever we found a good place to indefinitely camp would be another matter. 

'You're gorgeous when you're like that.' He laughed and pulled my hood back down now that my light faded away. 

'What? Glowing with enough power to rip a man's heart out of his chest?' I gave a snort of disbelief. 

'No, when you look at me like that.' 

Before I could kiss him again, he moved away to the stream's edge. Kneeling down he took in his reflection and turned his head left then right by his chin. 'I feel bad. You go through all those thick clothes and the paint to disguise yourself and all I did was don armour.' 

'That can't be easy for you.' I reasoned, moving to shove my boots back on. Strangely my feet felt cold without them now, but the blisters that had burst sang when connected with leather again. 

'I'm stronger than I look.' Hawke pulled a tongue and then went to fetch a dagger out of his pack. 

There was no time to ask what he was doing. In one movement he took hold of his long hair and slashed the blade through it, letting the ends fall to the ground. I stared wide-eyed, not sure what to do or say. After that he went over to the river and carefully sliced at his remaining hair till it was neat and well-groomed. Once flowing to his shoulders it was now around two inches long all over. 

'I think I might grow a beard again, it'll help disguise my face.' He wondered at his image some more. 'Would you be ok with that?' 

I crawled over to him and stared at our reflections. It was strange seeing a Dalish elf and dark-haired knight. 'You didn't have to cut your hair for-' 

'Ah shame, you liked it long.' He cursed himself playfully. 'I'll grow it out again for you.' 

'No, Garrett, listen.' I sighed. 'I don't care how you look. But you don't have to change yourself because you think I've got it worse than you or you're worried about disguises or you're concerned about how I'd prefer you to be.' 

'No beard then.' He smirked and rubbed his chin in thought. 'I bloody hated the thing, itched like mad. What twenty-four-year-old me was thinking I will never know.' 

I chuckled. 'We are discussing the same twenty-four-year-old who thought a fake blood-swipe over his nose made him look - how did you rationalise it to me later - "dashing"? Or was it "rugged"?' 

'Hey, it worked on you.' 

'Maker help me, I must have been knocked on the head by a slaver.' I rolled my eyes, to which he silenced all further protest with another long kiss. 

###### 

We tried to travel a little quicker after that break, making up for lost time but not a second that we regretted. Our walk took us through more woodland, to such depths that I was grateful for the boots' coarse soles and the warm cloak where the shade grew too chill. All too soon the birdsong quietened, and we began to lose the last of the sun's light. The Maker was watching over us, it seemed, for after an hour fumbling in the dark we found an abandoned woodcutter's cottage. We barricaded ourselves inside, and Hawke used his magic to light us a fire in the hearth. From our cloaks and a few moth-eaten sheets we managed to make a nest before the source of warmth. Hawke happily burrowed himself in the cloth mound whilst I checked for an indoor water source. When I returned he was already snoring loud enough to shake the rafters. 

'You are impossible.' I shook my head with a smile and shifted him over a bit, allowing enough space for me to curl in beside him. 

He disturbed a moment and dragged me closer to him, covering us both as much as he could manage. His arm caging me against him, I relished his touch. Nestling my head against his chest, I let the Fade take me. 

###### 

It was already noon. I stood in loose linen trousers and shirt, washing pots in the large cast iron sink. A warm summer's breeze drifted in through the open window, bringing with it the scent of a lemon tree. Behind me on the stove a stew was thickening, and mingled with the smell of citrus it made my mouth practically water. Hawke was the cook of course, I was useless at it. Casting a backwards glance at the pot I watched steam rise and wondered whether I should take it off the heat. How was I to know if it was burning? I frowned and looked about for a spoon, surely the mage wouldn't mind if I took just a bite. 

A loud noise rushed through the kitchen as the door banged open against the wall. I froze, eyes darting around for my sword but I could see nothing. _Kaffas! The Templars have found us!_ But there was nothing in the room with me. No tall humans in blinding silver mail, no Chantry Sisters giving me last rights. Then the noise came again, coming closer until I realised it came from two small creatures walking towards me. No, not creatures. Two small boys with Tevinter's skin-tone and snow-white hair. They were dressed well, but in nothing richer than a farmer might afford. Still they seemed happy, clean and warm; exactly as children should be. As they padded nearer they both looked up at me. _Their eyes..._ Where had I seen them before? 

The slightly smaller boy reached his arms aloft. 'Up! Up!' 

Cautiously I knelt and gathered him into my arms, letting him rest on my hip. The other took to hugging me round my knee, and I let my free-hand rest on his head. Something about this felt completely natural and right, though I'd never seen them before. Names came to mind. 

'Aurel.' I named the smaller, before looking down at his elder twin. 'Gaius.' 

'I hope you two demons haven't been being a handful again.' Hawke strode in through the door, placed fists on his hips and laughed. 

' _Pater_!' Gaius released me and raced to embrace the other. 

At this Aurel didn't move. He simply seemed to relish that he now had my full attention and rested his head on my shoulder, quietly sucking his thumb. Hawke picked up the other boy and held him aloft as the child giggled uncontrollably. He then walked over, skilfully taking Aurel from me and then depositing both on their feet. 

'Run along and play, boys. Dinner will be done soon.' He ruffled each of their hair and the children went off into the other room. Them gone, he looked to me and in that moment I knew where I'd seen those warm amber eyes before. 'You really shouldn't pick them up any more, Love.' 

'Why not?' I asked, unable to take my eyes from him. He looked different, a little older perhaps. His hair was long again and there was a little stubble about his jaw. 'They're just babes, Garrett.' 

'You need to think about yourself.' He took me in his arms, and kissed my smile. Slowly he moved one arm to our fronts and rubbed my stomach gently. I frowned, not understanding what he was doing. 'After all, it won't be long till number three is on its way.' 

###### 

I awoke, bolt upright and sweating. Beside me the guilty apostate slept on with a smile on his face, unaware of what had woken me. I scowled at him and punched him softly in the back, not caring if I disturbed him. He gave a snort of discomfort, rolled over and opened one eye. 

'You can be mad at me for whatever dream-me did in the morning.' With all the strength of a dozing bear Hawke pinned me back down and curled against my back. 'Right now I want to get back to my dream.' 

I growled but it did nothing to appease me. 'So what was _your_ wonderful dream?' 

'Mine?' He hummed low in my ear and I could feel his lips cracking back into a smile. 'The night we first made love. Only this time I did what I should've done, and pulled you back into bed when you tried to leave.' 

'You are insatiable.' 

'Mmmm, dream-you thinks so too.' 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Amatus_. = Tevene word used for one's lover, literally means "Beloved" or "Darling".**

**2) _Ma vehnan._ = My heart, used like "My love" or "My darling".**

**3) _Kaffas._ = *curse word* "Shit". **

**4) _Pater._ = Father.**


	6. Remembering the departed

'Stop laughing. It's not funny.'

'It was just a dream, Leto.' He chuckled, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

The morning trek out of the forest was hard-going, and to make matters worse the mage had taken to teasing me. Begrudgingly I'd recounted my waking dream to him over a simple breakfast of foraged eggs and stale bread, now the damned fool wouldn't stop going on about it. I let a branch snap back, effectively hitting him in the forehead. 

'Ow! Hey! Come on Leto, you have to admit it's a little funny.' 

'What part of it was funny then?' I retorted. 

'Were you wearing an apron? The frilly kind?' 

' _Venhedis_ , Garrett.' 

'You're worrying over nothing anyway.' He shrugged and held a low branch out of my way. 'It can never happen, even with all my magic and all your lyrium. It was just a silly dream.' 

'Yes it was.' 

We left it there, or rather Hawke did. For all my griping at what had ended as a nightmare, the dream hadn't been so bad. If I ignored the horrifying revelation that I had carried Hawke's children, it had been sweet to have a family like that even if just for a few minutes. A warm and safe home, filled with my _Amatus_ and our three children. As we trod on I kept seeing their tiny faces; amber eyes peeking out behind frost-coloured hair. The mage must have caught me moping a little, because he drew me close and walked for a portion of time with his arm around my shoulders. 

'You know we can always adopt, Leto.' He smiled gently from beneath his hood. 

'I know.' I kissed him tenderly. 'Thank you.' 

###### 

Two days onwards and my mood had brightened a little with seeing Lothering draw near. We weren't to stay in the town long, as it was the obvious first place to look for Hawke and any of his companions. But we were permitting ourselves a single day, then we were to head for Redcliffe. Even though I was not one for luxury, it would be lying to say that a day or two's stay in an inn was not appealing. River washes only did so much. I needed a good long soak in a tub. 

The strangest thing about the south was the lack of birdsong, accompanied by the mud-sodden fields and dying plant-life. The Blight had hit the place hard; so much so that in seven years it hadn't been able to recover. Nowhere was this more evident than in Lothering. I had pictured the bustling country town that Hawke had promised. Brightly coloured market stalls filled with produce, carts trundling to and fro as song could be heard from the Chantry's steps. The air perfumed with the smell of pies and cattle, as some bard played his lyre in a tavern doorway, drawing people inside for their fill of ale and laughter. 

The reality was much different. Standing atop a small hill, that was more a pile of mud than anything, allowed a full view of the chaos below. The few houses that remained were barely standing; pushed over and rotting, slowly being absorbed by the mire at their foundations. The Chantry, once a beacon glimmering in the noon sun, now lacked a roof and the spire bent at an odd angle. All symbols of the Maker and His bride were gone, replaced with crude markings that no doubt denoted Darkspawn Gods and idols. The only sign of humans and elves were the hastily made graves, and the half-sunken bones of those who had stayed too late. 

Hawke drew a shaking breath, unable to tear his eyes away. There was nothing I could say. What words could repair the damage done to childhood memories? As he placed a hand to his face I held him tightly, just as when his mother passed. Times like these needed no words. Words try to pacify complicated things, put them into neat little boxes so we can understand them. But pain and grief, disappointment and the shattering of dreams, these cannot be so easily defined. To truly understand them, you must know them. I did not understand the loss of a childhood for I couldn't remember mine and therefore couldn't feel sad about losing it. Had I known it had been happy, then I could mourn and share in his emotions. But this was not the case. So all I could do was hold him as his tears fell and we edged down the hill towards the Chantry's remains. 

'I hope it's still here.' He said as we climbed through Darkspawn rubble and filth. 'Careful, don't cut yourself on their blades.' 

'Believe me, I want to avoid their taint as much as you do.' I replied, unhooking my cloak from a broken fencepost. 'Warden Leto is not something I have planned in my future.' 

'Warden Commander Hawke has a ring to it.' 

'Don't even joke about that.' 

After some digging around in the refuge and shifting a barricade or two we found what Hawke was searching for. There wasn't much of it left, most toppled by the vile troops or neglect. Still the mage was reasonably content to smile down at the cracked stone. 

'Dad,' he said proudly, 'this is Leto.' 

The stone was too dirty to read, mud coating each letter and the Maker's eye. I crouched beside it and poured some of my flask over it, using my bare fingers to clean out the muck. After five minutes work I could finally see the words inscribed. 

_Here lies Malcolm Hawke._

_Husband of Leandra._

_Father of Garrett, Carver and Bethany._

_For his wise words and eternal smile we will remember him._

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Messere Hawke.' I smiled sadly down at the earth. In truth I wasn't sure Malcolm's bones still rested there, the Darkspawn could have dug him up or the trample of feet moved his body in any direction. But for Hawke I was going to do this without my usual bluntness. He needed it. 

Hawke gave a short laugh, but his eyes never left his father's stone. 'Back when we lived in Lothering, I never felt drawn to anyone. Father told me it was because my intended wasn't here, so I asked him how I'd know when I saw them. He said: "You just know. When I saw your mother at that party, when we caught one another's eyes, I saw her as my wife and our children in her arms. I knew that if anyone dared to try harming her, I would take the blade myself to spare her. That's how you know."' 

'A wise man.' I nodded solemnly. 

'He was.' His smile grew a little warmer. 'It's his voice I hear when I don't know what to do. When the Darkspawn came, when Carver was dying of the taint. That night, and when mother was killed. When the Arishok threatened Izzy and Meredith ordered the Right. Through all those, it was his voice that directed me, kept me sane. I felt with him as my guide and you as my motivation I could do anything.' 

The sudden negative tone struck me; I frowned at him. 'You still can, Garrett.' 

'I've had enough of big adventures.' The mage shook his head, knelt and rested a hand on the blackened earth. 'Do you know what father would tell me now, Leto?' I simply listened as he continued. 'He'd say: "Garrett, you get your damned head out of your ass. Anders was out of anyone's control, he's his own man and you can't be responsible for what he did. Now you got free of Kirkwall, and you got the damned love of your life at your side. Stop whinging like a child and make something of what you've got. 'Cause as I see it boy, you've got more than you'll ever need".' 

I chuckled and stood, wiping the mud from my knees. 'I wish I could've met him.' 

'He'd just bore you with his never-ending jokes, or his lies about that time he "turned into an honest-to-Maker dragon".' Hawke shook his head once more, with a laugh this time. 

'So that's where the dragon obsession comes from.' I raised an eyebrow as he got up. 

'I will master it one day.' He balled a fist to the sky in passion. 'I will become a dragon and sit on a pile of gold.' 

'I'm sure the King of Ferelden would be very pleased to have another High Dragon perched in his country.' 

'Don't squash my dreams.' 

'Said the man who just told me he should be happy with what he's got.' 

'Oh shush, Leto.' 

###### 

I left Hawke alone for a little while, taking to wandering the ruins of the town whilst he spent some time with his father. There wasn't much to find in the squat little houses and the mud-soaked fields. At first I played some childish game, trying to figure out which of the houses had belonged to the Hawkes. I picked my way through remnants and rotted furniture, piecing together the lives of those who dwelt in Lothering. After half an hour I realised that Hawke's family had lived on a farm not in town, and so we had likely passed it on the way in, if it still existed at all. The air still stank of Darkspawn, and the closer to the south the worse it became. South lay Ostagar and the Korcari Wilds, the place where the Hero of Ferelden had begun her journey as a Grey Warden. If the tales I had heard of her were even half true, she was an amazing woman who had defied death at least three times. But so had Garrett. 

Though he didn't think much of himself, we all knew that without him we would be lost. I personally doubted I would still be free of Danarius if it hadn't been for Hawke. Even with his warning, I had fallen prey to Varania's letter. Hawke was what had stopped Danarius taking me and collaring me back into his servitude. I grew cold at the thought of what my life may have been, drawing my cloak around myself. Danarius would have let me suffer for a while, let me remember the mage who held my affections and whom I was now torn from forever. Then when he tired of it, he would remove my memories again until I was nothing but his pet. I would pour his wine and kneel at his feet, I would kill for him and when the day was done he would lock me in a windowless room. Then Hadriana would come to taunt me with fire or ice or whatever foul magic she had thought of that night. She would speak of a mage named "Hawke" and I would have no idea whom she meant. 

'So this is where you- Oh Leto, don't cry.' 

'Sorry.' I tried to blink the tears away as he wiped them from my face. 

He smiled softly. 'Don't be. Are you ok?' 

'I'm fine. I was dwelling on a darker what-might-have-been.' I gave him a weaker smile back, and he just stroked my hair gently. 

'Well, this is real and that isn't.' He took my hand and began to lead me out of the hovel. 'Speaking of, let's get out of here. We'll head west to Redcliffe. It's only a day's walk and I hear that place has really picked up since the Hero saved it.' 

I nodded. 'Redcliffe sounds nice.' 

###### 

It was on the outskirts of Redcliffe we made our home. Hawke bought a small Hinterland farm with the money he'd saved in Kirkwall, as well as a cow and a few chickens. The locals didn't ask many questions about the ex-soldier and his Dalish lover. They were simply content that we never caused trouble and were always the first to help fix a broken paddock or defend the farms from wolves and bandits. Over the following months I taught Hawke how to use a sword, and he in turn taught me how to repress my lyrium as he did his magic. Templars came knocking from time to time, but they were easily diverted or avoided all together. Our life was a happy one, and we never wished for more than we had. 

Before we knew it, four years had passed since our fleeing Kirkwall. 

###### 

Hawke had spent the morning at his desk, writing a letter to Varric and one to Aveline. The dwarf had had a spate of not writing for two months during the last six. It had Hawke worried even though letters began anew at the start of the year. Now he wrote once a week, demanding to know what was going on in Kirkwall. Varric apparently was now staying "with some friends" but refused to tell us exactly where; having the messages to and from Hawke delivered by a courier every few weeks or so. Seeing it as the dwarf foresaw danger, Hawke only ever returned that we were together and safe. At one point he even threw in that we were up north, killing slavers who had come to prey on those fleeing Kirkwall. I don't know if Varric believed it, but if it fooled anyone who dared to intercept our letters then it wasn't wasted. 

'Garrett,' I called from the doorway, 'I'm going to town. Do you want anything?' 

He barely looked up from his letter. 'I'm good, thanks.' 

'I love you.' 

At this he looked up and smirked. 'Love you too.' 

I headed out, cloak wrapped loosely about my shoulders. It was the middle of spring now and the weather becoming pleasantly warm. All along the hills the flowers were in high bloom, the air annoyingly loud with the sounds of newly-calved lambs. I wouldn't mind the signs of new life, but from sunrise to sunset the infernal bleating never ended. Hawke never comforted me on the matter. He instead just broke into a series of ram and sheep-related jokes, much to my further irritation. The man never ceased to both infuriate and attract me. 

Redcliffe wasn't too far, only an hour's walk if I took it slow. Today however I was in too much of a frenzy to dawdle. I hurried down the hill into the town proper, bidding hello to those who addressed me first. In Kirkwall I had never taken time to get to know anyone save Hawke and his companions. I hadn't wanted to know; wrapping myself in nothing but isolation, wine and my hunger for revenge. A toxic mix which had nearly cost me very dearly. I was simply thankful the mage was too stubborn to take my leaving that night as my final farewell. Here in the Hinterlands I had taken time to learn from my mistake. I knew the farmers and their families, the Chantry Sisters and Revered Mother. I played Wicked Grace in the tavern with the local drunks and helped the children to fetch their ball out of the lake. Leto the Dalish was everything Fenris the ex-slave hadn't been, and I felt much happier and contented. There was only one mistake I had left to fix. 

I returned to the farm to find Hawke had already put dinner on. The air radiated with the warm smell of cooking meat and sweet vegetables. The chef himself was in the attic space, laying across the bed. I rolled my eyes. A dozen times I had told him not to fall asleep with the fire lit, but the man was a law unto himself. Carefully I crept along the floorboards, before finally kneeling beside the bed. 

'Garrett.' I whispered. 'Garrett, wake up.' 

'Leto?' He burbled sleepily, lifting his head. 'You back?' 

'Yes, can you sit up?' 

He nodded and did so, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. I waited a few moments for him to come to, which he signalled with a smile. 

'You're back early. I thought I could have a good hour before you got back.' 

'I know.' I replied. 'I hurried.' 

'Oh, was the town on fire? A maiden in need of rescuing?' He laughed until he realised and grew serious. 'Leto, did you see Templars?' 

'No more than the usual amount.' I shook my head trying to reassure him. For the last year or so Templars and mages had become riled up in some rebellion sparked by Anders' cause. It was dangerous to venture out at times, but we avoided it easily with side-routes we had planned long in advance. 'Don't worry about that now. Garrett, there's something I need to ask you.' 

'Oh it's hog roast, I know you like that.' 

'Not dinner, Garrett. Just listen.' I sighed and retrieved something from a belt pouch. 'Garrett, I should have done this a long time ago. I should have done it in Kirkwall five, no, eight years ago. You mean everything to me and I've nearly lost you more times than I care to remember. I won't do that again. _Amatus_ , I love you.' I extended my hand to him and unfurled my fingers. 'Garrett Hawke, will you marry me?' 

His eyes went wide before they filled with tears and he grabbed me in a hug. 'Maker yes! Yes Leto!' 

Both of our hands shaking, there was a little fumble trying to get the ring onto his finger. He sat admiring it as we kept sharing smiles, the silver flashing in the candlelight of the attic. 

'It's beautiful.' 

'Pure silver.' I explained with a grin. It had taken me two years to save up without his knowing. 'It has a trick too. Try a spell.' 

Curious, he lit a small flame in his left palm. The ring began to glow with a soft blue light as he looked to me. 'It glows like you.' 

'It has a lyrium band woven into the metal.' When he extinguished the flame I placed my hand in his palm. Even the residue of his magic was enough to illuminate the markings on my fingers and the back of my hand. 'So if we're ever not together, you have a small part of me with you.' 

'Oh Leto.' He pulled me close and kissed me gently. 'Thank you.' 

'No, thank you.' I smiled. 'You've made me the happiest man in Thedas.' 

Hawke smirked at this. 'Well, at the moment dinner is done. After that I'll see what I can do about helping you keep your title.' 

I watched him get up and made to grab his hand. Skilfully he avoided my grasp. 'Forget dinner.' 

Hawke waggled his hips playfully as he made for the ladder. 'Control yourself, Messere. I'm a taken man now.' 

'You're a horrid tease, Hawke.' I growled down to him. 

'I know.' 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Venhedis._ = *curse word***

**2) _Amatus._ = Tevene word user for one's lover, literally means "Beloved" or "Darling".**


	7. The road north

It was a little strange the feeling of not wanting to open my eyes. Though I knew the man I loved most in the world lay beside me and all I had to do was look at him, I was savouring the hours we'd spent together. Remembering the way his hands held me, how I'd roared in Tevene as he coursed a gentle fire magic through our veins; the feel of my mouth against his whilst our everything became one. The evening's activities had sparked a new surge of memory, but not one that we couldn't handle. Over the years Hawke and I had begun to keep mental notes on what generated the remembrance. Since it sometimes happened when we kissed or held hands, we concluded it was merely touch not necessarily sex that was the catalyst. The source we had whittled down to strong emotion, specifically if I was feeling intensely joyous or content. Hawke joked that I was probably safe most of the time due to my brooding. That had earned him a dead arm and an icy glare. The memories hadn't been anything particularly worth remembering. Flashes of something and then gone again as usual. Hawke promised we would work on trying to isolate the memories and clarify them once the damned war with the Templars was over and he could use magic safely again. Till then he claimed we could "practice as much as I like". 

I could take it no more. With a wicked grin I slid my hand over towards his side of the bed. 

'Morning, _Amatus_. Rested enough for-' 

The sheets were cool and empty. I opened my eyes. Hawke never got out of bed before mid-morning, not unless the Templars were pounding at the door. Fairly certain such a racket would've woken me, I looked around the attic space for my clothes. Since it was still too dark to see by I channelled my fear through my limbs, lyrium lighting up in response. The blue glow revealed our bed was made-up on Hawke's side, his scattered clothes gone and his staff no longer leaning against the corner. I frowned and then saw a note carefully pinned to his pillow. Relief sank through me, dimming the lyrium a little. He had likely stepped out for a walk or been called to help a nearby farm in need. That explained his missing staff. _Wait, no it doesn't._ Hawke had been very careful during our years there, using a sword when fighting and forgoing all magic use save in our home where we could easily hide it. He'd bought the staff claiming it was "Just in case one day a sword isn't enough". I held no issue with it, and for two years it had all but collected dust. 

I grabbed the note and unfolded it. 

_"Leto,_

_I know it will be strange for you to wake up alone today, but please don't worry. I'm not leaving you, I promise. I know you'll be mad at me for this, and I fully expect an ass-kicking when I get home, but please believe me when I say this is for the best. Varric has written to me of something dire, and it's my responsibility to sort this out. I can't ask you to come with me because of how dangerous this is, and I won't risk you getting killed because of my foolishness and our love. I will hurry home as soon as I'm able to. I ache every moment I'm not by your side._

_Promise me you'll take care till I return, and please don't try to follow me or do anything rash. And please stay away from Redcliffe, there are Tevinters dabbling with the rebel mages there._

_I love you so much._

_Your fiancé, Garrett x"_

I left the note on the bed as I went to grab my armour from the trunk. The man was a complete and utter fool if he thought I wasn't going to follow him. Going about our home quickly I grabbed up supplies into a satchel, finally hitching my blade to my back and padlocking the front door shut behind me. The animals would be fine I hoped, the other farmers all checked in on each other's livestock occasionally; if I was away too long then they'd simply claim them as their own. We could always buy new cattle, but I predicted finding a fiancé as good as Hawke would never happen. 

I didn't have time to be angry, not at first. My every thought was consumed with trying to track Hawke and where he could have gone. The note mentioned only that he had left on word from Varric, that it was somehow his fault and to stay home because Tevinters were in Redcliffe. From this I drew only one conclusion. Something from Hawke's past had upset Tevinter and now they were looking for him. The only connection Hawke had to Tevinter, in my knowledge, was me. Therefore I reasoned the Tevinter Magisters were trying to find me in order to claim my markings back; Varric and his mysterious friends had gotten wind of this and sought to alert Hawke. Hawke had then decided to do something about it and had now run off to solve the damned problem by himself. It begged the question why he didn't solve the Redcliffe issue before charging off, but I assumed he simply thought getting to the root of the problem would fix it quicker and more effectively. It was a sound plan, especially since I would be able to handle a few idiotic mages and their slaver pets by myself should they venture out the town. 

That only left the question of where Hawke had gone. At first I had tried tracking him, but my skills in this were next to useless. I lost sign of his boot-prints once I hit the road, and from then I was blind as to his direction. The bed had been cold, meaning he left at some point between me falling asleep and an hour before my waking. Hawke had at least an hour's head-start and I had no clue which way he'd gone. Trying to ignore the sickening twist in my gut I closed my eyes. If the threat was of Tevene nature, there was only one place he could have gone. 

I was to retrace the steps we took four years before. I would go to Denerim, onto Kirkwall and then through Nevarra. I was heading north, to Tevinter. 

###### 

My pace was as quick as I could manage, resting only when my body demanded it and even then only for a few hours. In this manner I reached Denerim by the end of my third day. It had worried me that I had not been able to catch up to Hawke. Surely the man hadn't been travelling at a forced pace like myself, unless he intended to try and lose me in the vain hope I would give up and go home. _Not likely._ There was also the nagging suspicion I had been completely wrong in my assumptions. That thought was quickly cast aside. If I doubted myself then I wouldn't get anywhere. As I travelled I would listen for news of Hawke, but to suddenly and constantly change my mind half-way through would lead me nowhere. 

The streets of Denerim were busy in the spring, even more so than the summer we had landed in Ferelden. I held it accountable to the beginning of the trade year for the farmers, eager to start selling again after the winter's frosts were thawed. I bought little, only what I needed to restock my supplies of rations and fake _vallaslin_ before making my way to the docks. 

I hate fisheries. I hate fish. I hate their scales and their smell and the vulgar way their dead eyes stare at you. But worse than the fish are sailors. Granted not all the men were bad, some jovial and good to have a drink with. It was the others who were drunk and had been at sea for months I took issue with. What I had not expected to find was the guard to be positioned every so often along the wooden walkways. It seemed King Alistair had really taken to his promise to make Ferelden a safer place. The strange human I'd met in the Viscount's Keep was beginning to grow on me. 

The Maker - it seemed - was also watching over me that evening, for I found passage on a ship to Kirkwall for thirty silver. The Captain was a highly superstitious man, and had feared bringing a Dalish aboard would upset the Maker. When I explained my fiancé had long ago converted me to the Chant, he was more receptive. It was a lie of course, I had long worshipped the Maker and His bride but it was a lie to cover the lie I was Dalish. I'd forgotten how deep lies can end up spiralling, and made a note to try and keep track of my loose ends. The sailor informed me that he would leave at dawn, so I wove my way back into the city towards a supposed-tavern named _The Pearl_. It was reputed for its "entertainment", though I explicitly went there for the gossip. Often beautiful women and handsome men loosen tongues as easily as ale. From a darkened corner I sipped my wine and simply listened. 

'-so the Inquisitor looks at this Chasind guy and says "You attacked my Keep with a goat?". The bloody nutter had thrown a _goat_ at the wall of Skyhold!' The women draped over him laughed with a gentle tittering. They'd heard the story twice before by their lack of genuine amusement, but if they kept their patron happy then he paid. 

'Was the poor thing still alive?' One asked, her cheeks ridiculously over-rouged. 

'Yeah, the guards said they still heard it bleating as it smacked against the mortar!' 

'That's nothin'!' Another man yelled from the bar. 'I heard the Inquisitor survived an avalanche!' 

'She did not!' 

'Did too! Me cousin saw her stagger out the snow with his own eye!' 

'"Eye"?' 

'Well, he lost one in a bar-fight, few year ago. But anyway that's no-' 

'My my. What's an elf of your tempting calibre doing in a place like this, hmm?' I looked up from the edge of my glass to see a face I really didn't have time for. He was dressed richly in green velvet and and silver thread, a clear symbol of nobility in Ferelden. Golden hair swept back into a neat tail, accented with black ribbon. It seemed the years had been kind to the rogue, sitting in the King's pocket. 'I would have thought this place to be a little seedy for your tastes. Unless you're looking for some fun? I am not a man to judge. Everyone has needs, Fenris.' 

'My name is Leto.' I corrected, cursing my luck as he moved onto the seat opposite me. 'And I'm not here for that.' 

'Truly?' He smirked, contorting the waved pattern on the side of his face. 'Such a pity. I have a room rented here and everything.' 

'Be quiet, Zevran.' Angling my head slightly I tried to pick up the other conversation again. Sadly it had moved on to talk of the women's assets. 

The blonde pursed his lips a moment and then grinned. 'I can do silent, if you like me that way. I am used to doing the giving in such situations as this, but for you I can make an exception.' 

I breathed heavily through my nose, now fully irritated by the elf and wished he would drop dead where he sat. We hadn't parted on the best of terms in the Free Marches, which was entirely his fault. I had thought that never would be too soon to see him again. 

'Speaking of such lovely things.' He continued. 'Where is that most handsome mage you pander after? Dark, tall, handsome. The memory of such a striking face still makes me weak at the knee.' 

'Garrett, you mean.' It was useless to even try and shut him up. Zevran would keep talking until I left or stabbed him. 'He was well last I saw him. We're engaged now.' 

'Well congratulations are in order then!' He smiled and clapped twice. 'I apologise for reminiscing aloud, but you must admit he is very easy on the eyes. If he were not, you would not be entangled in him so. No?' 

I gave a brief nod of agreement but left it there. I was not opening the conversation up for talk of our bedroom behaviour to a lecherous rogue whom I disliked almost as much as I hated the abomination. 

'But you speak of him in the past tense.' The rogue continued, raising an eyebrow. 'Where is he now?' 

'That is what I'd like to know.' I hissed, knocking back the last of my wine. 'He left a note explaining something about a danger he had to face alone, and that I shouldn't follow him.' 

'So of course you did.' Zevran laughed. ' _Amigo_ , there is such a thing as a "fool in love". I do not doubt your Garrett is a man who knows of what he speaks. Rushing after him may truly be unwise.' 

'I won't let him die because he's trying to protect me.' I stood and made to walk past the elf. He grabbed my wrist and I glared down at him. 

'Love is deadlier than a blade; it clouds the mind and makes a man do rash, stupid things.' His voice was no longer jovial, but for the first time deadly serious. 'If you will not be sensible for your own sake, then do it for Garrett. Keep your emotions in check and your wits sharpened, Leto.' 

I tugged my arm out of his grasp and grunted before heading out of the tavern. Who was that idiot to tell me what I already knew? I was no lovesick fool who would run into battle without a plan, no addled simpleton who would drink poison over the loss of his beloved. If I am honest that was only half true. If Hawke ever died I did plan to follow him, but I couldn't do it myself; such would be slanderous in the eyes of the Maker. I would take my sword and travel Thedas, killing slavers and bandits wherever I could find them. I would die a warrior's death, overcome by my enemy and welcomed into the Fade by my lover's arms. But that was a plot stored at the back of my mind. I refused to believe Hawke could die. There was no world without him. I would find the foolish mage and stand by his side against whatever foe he was facing. Tevinter no longer scared me, the Magisters and their pets could no longer hold me at bay. 

For a moment my lyrium lit the dark alleys and I fought to make it fade. Looking to the sky revealed the moon hung high, and a thousand stars shining. 

  


Staggering out from _The Hanged Man_ I stared blurry-eyed at the mage who supported me, a heavy red spread across his own cheeks. He'd stopped walking and was just looking up at the sky, spread out above us in the small courtyard like diamonds cast on black satin. It was a little hard to make things out this close to so many torches, but still he drank the sky in like he could see every star that night. 

"You know I think your mother was a thief." He slurred. 

"What?" I snapped, frowning at the man. 

"She was a thief." He continued. Letting his head sag to his shoulder, he looked to me. "Do you know why, Fen? Do you know why?" 

"Enlighten me." The words were not much more than a drunken growl. If he hadn't been the only thing keeping me upright, I would have dropped the mage and stormed off into the shadows of Kirkwall. 

"It's 'cause she stole the stars," a lazy smile spread across his face, "and put them in your eyes." 

I ignored the heated flush and shook my head. "You're drunk, Hawke." 

  


Slowly I tore my gaze from the heavens and began to make my way through the streets of Denerim, back towards the dock.

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Amatus._ = Tevene word used for one's lover, literally means "Beloved" or "Darling".**

**2) _Vallaslin._ = The markings Dalish tattoo onto their faces, literally it means "Blood Writing".**

**3) _Amigo._ = Friend.**


	8. Ma vehnan

I cannot accurately describe the pain of venturing back to a place you hold dear, only for it to be empty of all you knew. Perhaps that hollowness was what Hawke had encountered all those years before when we had ventured into Lothering. To me Kirkwall was my Lothering, the only place of my life that held some semblance of happiness before our home in the Hinterlands. The city I returned to had been dealt four years of change, and though she remained almost the same, I was not. I was no longer Fenris, an ex-slave who sought only heated revenge. No longer would I hide in Kirkwall's shadows. I was now Leto, and had as much right to walk those streets as any other man or elf.

It was foolish of me, but I dared to approach the places that meant most to us as I passed through. Where the Chantry had shattered lay the scaffolds and foundations of a new structure. Its white stone strong and sure, defiant in the face of Anders' spark. Hawke's manor hadn't changed, even the crest still hung outside. It puzzled me as to why it hadn't been removed until two young women left the building, both with red hair though one was an elf. I couldn't quite remember her name but I knew the human to be Gamlen's daughter, the elf was Orana. That explained it. Gamlen had moved in with his daughter after Hawke left, ensuring the family home remained with the Amell line. At least it hadn't gone to squalor or been taken over by raiders. Hawke would be happy to hear that, once I'd beaten him round the head for leaving.

The fettered hovel I had called home was, from the outside, unchanged save for a few potted flowers by the door. Lingering at a safe distance I recalled the times Hawke would visit me, how we'd politely argue the validity of magic before one or the other slid in a casual flirtation. The latter usually came from Hawke. As far as I was aware I had never been interested in anyone romantically before coming to Kirkwall. Simply put I did not know what was expected or how to even initiate such a conversation. I could appreciate beauty but was numb to feelings beyond that initial respect. He had shown me there could be something more; that warm burning sensation working its way up from my stomach to my chest, finishing in an almost blistering heat at my cheeks.

"Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf."

I had followed his lead, and never presumed he meant more than he did. Until Hadriana. I looked down to my hand and curled my gloved fingers. When she met her end I had known my revenge was almost complete, and it frightened me. To know that one day it would be finished and I would be left with nothing but an emptiness. That's what I had pondered on as I raged back to Kirkwall alone. By the time I'd heard Hawke had returned I was very drunk and had lost myself in thoughts of ifs and maybes. The next evening I had sobered up and was ready to face him; to admit that his casual comments had been building up within me and I needed to know whether there was anything there or if I was simply mistaking a game for love. In my pathetic state I found myself waiting in his entranceway for two hours before he returned from some errand with the Dalish. I demanded to be told what his intentions were, then panicked and tried to leave. What had followed had been the best night of my life, and also the one I regretted most.

  


"If I could do it over, I would stay. You know that don't you?"

"I know, Leto." He smiled and pulled me into his arms. "You have told me countless times, but it's been six years now. I think it's ok to forgive yourself. But speaking of that night, do you want me to tell you what I would do differently?"

"You would send me away before that kiss?" I ventured, arms folded gently.

"I'll show you." He stood and pulled me up from the edge of the bed by my elbows. "Stand there; turn your back to me, like that night. Tell me again why you had to leave."

I turned back to him, frowning as he laid back on his pillow. "Garrett, I fail to see-"

"Do it for me, Leto."

"Very well." I sighed and faced away, arms relaxed. There in the warm shadows of our attic space it came crashing back to me; the pain I'd felt, the torn ache in my soul and heart. "Perhaps you do not know the pain of having something there, only for it to be taken away again."

"I care about you, Fenris." A shockwave went through me, it had been years since he'd called me by that name. Now I felt the true weight of it, an iron collar slammed shut round my neck only to be made a little lighter by Hawke's love. I much preferred Leto.

"I know. Hawke, I'm sorry. This is too much." I looked back at him. "I just wanted to be happy for once."

Making to walk off towards the ladder I heard the bed move quickly. Before I had moved three steps, Hawke had crawled to the foot and strongly caught me round the waist. I looked down at him, waiting for his next action.

"Hawke, I can't..."

"Then we won't, just please come back to bed." There was a sadness there, something I hadn't seen between us since that same night. Hawke was wrapped once again in the memory, as was I.

"I suppose." I crawled onto the bed, but due to his arms still about me it became that I now sat in his lap.

Carefully he laid me down so that I rested against the pillows, and he lay beside me. "Fen, we'll take this at your pace. I just don't want to lose you."

"Hawke..." Tears stung my eyes.

"So then what would've happened?" He asked, suddenly breaking character and shattering the atmosphere.

"Hmm?" I was lost in his eyes a moment before I came back round; air rushing into my lungs as the pressing feel of dread lifted. "I would've likely stayed the night, sleeping atop the covers and refusing touch of any kind. Then I may have kissed you as I snuck out in the morning before your mother saw us together. Over time I would have learn to trust you more and would have likely opened myself back up again fully. Sort of what happened years later than it should have."

"I could've been having amazing sex for those three lonely years if I'd have just called you back one more time?" He pouted and crossed his arms.

"We both made mistakes." I chuckled.

"Bah!" He sat up a little. "Enough role-play, time to pick up where my dreams normally do."

"And where is that?" I smirked.

"The part where I ravish you."

  


It happened the way it did, and nothing I could do now would change that. Still it had made Hawke and I stronger for it. Now we knew our love was based on trust and a genuine desire for the other person. We had weathered the storm and come out the other side in each other's arms. When I got him back from Tevinter we would be married and live the rest of our lives together, perhaps even finally deciding to grow our couple into a family.

Slowly I walked away from the places we had once called home, and headed towards the gate once more.

###### 

I dislike forests. They are cold and wet even on the driest of days; the tree-cover casts a green hue on the damp earth beneath it as a thousand creatures scurry and eat and breed and die. The Dalish must be mad to try and return to such a life. Granted there are advantages to knowing our past and being able to learn from it, but it hardly does them any good. What the Dalish know are scraps of stories and fragments of language and spells; nothing that makes it a dire need to live out in the cold wastelands of Thedas. By no means am I saying life in an Alienage or in slavery is a picnic, but at least you have a roof over your head when it rains. I imagine aravels are only so comfortable when you try to squeeze three or more elves into one during the wet season. 

Seheron and Tevinter had bred me for warmer climes. My preferential lack of shoes was testimony to this, as it was a pain to get sand out of boots and your feet often overcooked when bound in leather. I tried to stomach the dankness as much as I could, knowing in a few days time I would be cursing the heat and longing for rain. When we had travelled the hills and forests of the Sundermount Hawke and Varric's chatter had kept me amused, or a nice lengthy argument with the abomination had often passed time. I currently had neither of these distractions, so bear it I must. At least I would have Hawke's company on the return trip. 

Two days I travelled towards the Nevarran border through the Planasene forest, resting little and eating as I walked. Though I had been used to such a life when running from Danarius, my body was feeling the repercussions of living contently for so many years. Hunger came more swiftly and was harder to sate, when the moon rose my limbs would drag a little on the soil and my mind would blur. _When I have Hawke I can rest._ That was what kept me spurring ever onwards. On the third morning I paused at the sound of loud chattering and a fire. Slowly I crept closer, heart hoping that I had come across a party containing Hawke. 

What greeted me was the tip of an arrow, still knocked to its bow. Apparently stealth was still not one of my best abilities. 

'Who goes there?' A voice shouted. 

' _Elvh_.' The archer reported back. 'He bears _vallaslin_.' 

'Then take down your bow, _lethallan_!' 

Slowly the bow tilted to the ground and the arrow was loosened. I stood from my hiding place and looked around at the camp. Not the party I had been hoping for. I had stumbled upon another Free March Dalish clan. They beheld me with a look of curiosity and surprise. It was their Keeper who had spoken first, a man who seemed old and wise as the trees. 

'He is not Dalish.' Their Keeper announced. 'That is not _vallaslin_ , it is merely paint. Announce yourself, _Harellan_.' 

' _Ir abelas_. You are wise, _Hahren_.' I bowed my head. 'My name is Leto, and I do not mean to cause alarm. I am travelling to Nevarra and heard voices. I had hoped the one I seek was with you, but I see now he is not, and so I shall leave.' 

'You are not Dalish, but you are of our children.' The Keeper motioned me to come closer. 'Sit by our fire and speak of your journey. Perhaps we have seen the man you seek.' 

' _Ma serannas_.' 

I stepped from the bushes and made my way over, trying to casually ignore the glances I was getting. One elf took her son by the hand and led him away, whilst a few hunters kept their spears unsheathed. The Keeper settled himself on his log once more, and nodded to his First, telling him to go fetch water and some fruit. 

After the First returned, the Keeper began again. ' _Garas quenathra?_ Begin _len_ with why you bear false markings.' 

'It is to hide my true self.' I worded it carefully till he gave me a look. The stare was ice-cold and read "Do not lie to me or hide anything". 'I was originally a slave owned by a Magister in Tevinter, during my time in his care he chose to mark me with lyrium. In order to hide amongst humans and other elves I paint _vallaslin_ over the top of them.' 

'You masquerade as one of our outcasts.' 

I nodded, taking the water he offered. 'If I were Dalish-born I would likely be outcast.' 

'And why is that?' He furrowed his silver brow. 

'I am _shem'vehnan_.' An elf or two gasped at this. 'It is my fiancé that I currently seek. He left saying he was to complete some dangerous quest, and that I should await him. I am not so fragile as to do so.' 

'Many would do the same. _Na elgar na mirthadra_.' The Keeper seemed to ignore the whispers amongst the fireside. 'We have seen many a male _shemlen_ in these forests. Tell us of him.' 

'His name is Garrett Hawke.' Another burble of whispers, I took it they at least knew of him. This close to Kirkwall how could they not? 'Dark hair, long unless he has cut it again, and has brown eyes. He's a mage and no doubt has his staff with him.' 

'Garrett Hawke.' The Keeper repeated the name and looked to me. 'That would make you Fenris of Tevinter. We had heard of you both from Keeper Marethari.' 

'Then you know why I must get to him as soon as I can.' 

He sighed and shook his head slowly. ' _Ir abelas_. We have not seen your _shemlen_.' 

' _Ma serannas_.' I stood and made my way back to my path, head held high as an elf spat at my feet. 

' _Fen'Harel ma ghilana_!' One shouted from their aravel. 

I closed my eyes and moved on. What the elves had done didn't bother me as much as one might think. I was never Dalish and so their insults did not burn as deeply as they would to - say - Merrill. The Dalish were in my mind backwards and full of the romantic notion that one day elves would rise again and take back their promised land. Contentment for me was knowing I was beside Hawke, and that we did everything we could to protect elves from slavery and abuse when we could. The world was changing, Denerim was evidence enough. The Dalish needed to open their eyes. And if the Dread Wolf would take me for loving a human then let him. Nothing was going to tear me from Hawke. 

_"I'm not leaving you, I promise ... I will hurry home as soon as I'm able to, I ache every moment I'm not by your side."_

It wasn't over. Every step I drew closer to him. 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Ma vehnan._ = My heart, used like "My love" or "My darling".**

**2) _Vallaslin._ = The markings Dalish tattoo onto their faces, literally it means "Blood Writing".**

**3) _Elvh._ = Elven word for Elf.**

**4) _Lethallan._ = Refers to an elf of close kinship, this is specifically used for female elves. _Lethallin_ is for males.**

**5) _Harellan._ = Trickster or a traitor to one's kin. Meant here in the former tone.**

**6) _Ir abelas._ = I'm sorry.**

**7) _Hahren._ = The name used for an elder/leader of a clan of elves.**

**8) _Ma serannas._ = Thank you.**

**9) _Garas quenathra?_ = Why are you here?/Why have you come?**

**10) _Len._ = Child.**

**11) _Shem'vehnan._ = Literally "Human's Heart", a word used for a human's elven lover or bride. (Non-canon).**

**12) _Na elgar na mirthadra._ = I respect your decision, literally "Your spirit is honoured".**

**13) _Shemlen._ = Elven word for humans, literally "Quick child".**

**14) _Fen'Harel ma ghilana._ = You're making a mistake/bad choices, literally "The Dread Wolf guides you".**


	9. The wolf and the bard

I was eager to put as much distance as I could between myself and the Dalish. I did not put it past their hunters to track me down and shoot me by "accident", claiming they believed I was a deer or some such. For all the elves that are abused by humans, there are just as many who seek humans out and hurt them. Some humans deserve it. Danarius and Hadriana had been two of such people, but not all humans are so misaligned. Of course not all Dalish hate humans and a few try to live peacefully, but even in those clans there are some who deem rounded ears enough to be a sentence for death. And to be _shem'vehnan_? To a City Elf it is a promising role, one which means a full belly every night and a fire to curl up by. To the Dalish it is a slanderous brand, it threatens the sanctity of elven culture and the purity of the bloodline. 

As I say, I was eager to be far from them as soon as I might. 

My second day in Nevarra I managed to find the tip of the Imperial Highway, the road which would help me journey north across the Tevinter border. The walk was not entirely unpleasant. The weather picked up, and soon I was able to return my boots to my sack. Merchants were frequent enough and I managed to restock every few days. One or two kind souls were generous enough to offer short rides on their wagons, so long as I hid under covers and removed myself before nightfall. The Nevarran people were as friendly as the Fereldens; they talked to me of the news from Orlais, how the Inquisition was still trying to seal the "hole in the sky". Sadly nothing they said held much interest. No one had seen Hawke. 

By my sixth day on the Highway it seemed word of me was getting about. A woman, daughter to a merchant Prince - or so she claimed - called me over to her caravan. As her horse and guard rested she gave me water and bread for nought, but asked I tell her my story. She said that she'd heard tales of a Dalish travelling the main road in search of a man with dark hair. 

'Tell me, please.' She asked again with a bright smile. 'I must hear the tale from your mouth.' 

'Very well.' I nodded and thus began the story I had woven for every traveller who asked. It was one I knew well. Hawke and I had spent many a night rehearsing it when we first moved to the Hinterlands. 'I was born to a clan while they rested in the Fereldan mountains, they named me Leto and trained me to hold a sword. When I was twenty-four I was out hunting, and came across an injured knight. I couldn't leave him to die despite what my _Hahren_ might say. So I hid him and nursed him back to health.' I glanced to her, she was utterly enthralled. Hawke had thought of this when constructing the tale. Everyone loved a good forbidden romance, it kept them distracted from any discrepancies. 'The knight was named Garrett and had been wounded at Ostagar by the Darkspawn. He was lucky, for he was badly hurt but had not contracted the Blight. Within two weeks I had him back on his feet, of course we reached a dangerous impasse. During our time together we had fallen in love, something that would never be permitted by my clan.' 

'What did you do?' The merchant leaned her chin on her hand. 'Did you go to your... _"Hahren"_ was it?' 

I nodded to indicate her correct term, then sighed. 'We could not. If he were to learn of my feelings, the _Hahren_ would have killed Garrett on sight, making me watch and take note that _shemlen_ have no place in the _vehnan_ of _Elvhen_. So we ran away and made a home together. But recently Garrett became sick and my healing could do nothing to help him, so he disappeared in the middle of the night for Tevinter. He left a note and said he believes the Magisters can cure him, but as an elf I cannot go near the place without fear of being taken captive. I cannot let _ma vehnan_ do this alone simply because of my birth.' 

'Oh you sweet dear.' She reached out and touched my shoulder. I winced but she didn't seem to notice. 'Listen, it sounds like you need to get north quick. We can take you as far as the bridge if you like?' 

Gently I smiled. ' _Ma serannas_ Messere. Garrett will know of your kindness when we meet again.' 

Hitching a ride with the merchant Princess reduced five days travel to two and a half. She even bade me to sit up front with her. I was no fool, this was showboating. If tales of me had spread then no doubt I was quite unmistakable in appearance. To have me sit where all could see meant she could claim to have known me and weave herself into such stories; ones where she encountered the dusty elf and helped him onwards towards his lost love. It made little difference to me. If word of my appearance spread then it was likely Hawke would hear of it. So far north he would know there was no chance of my turning round, he would wait for me to catch up or seek me out himself. Either way I was getting closer to him and that was all I cared about. 

###### 

Ella, her name was, left me as she promised by the start of the bridge. The wooden structure crossed the Minanter River and signalled only two days walk from the Tevinter border. I thanked her and waved till her cart was well beyond the bridge, deciding I would camp out this side and head out proper in the morning. I was loathe to enter the forests again, but it would provide cover should someone unsavoury come looking for me. And so I made my way into the green depths. 

###### 

Ordinarily I would only have ventured as far as needed to hide a decent-sized campfire, but that evening I caught the sound of song on the air. Curiosity got the better of me. Carefully I crept closer to the source, wary of places where my feet would skitter leaves or twigs and announce my presence. The sound of a lute soon became louder as I approached, and it didn't take long to find the clearing it came from. Pitched in the centre was a small tent, a gentle fire dancing nearby and the smell of stew decorating the scene nicely. The lute-player sat alone, their back to me as they forlornly strummed away: 

_'... Once we were_

_in our homeland_

_with strength and might._

_Once we were_

_not afraid of the night._

_We held the Fade_

_and the demon's flight,_

_so far from our children_

_and from our lives...'_

The bard stopped a moment and rested their instrument on their lap, leaving their song undone. 'It seems we have a guest, little one. Whoever you are, come into the light. I have not lived this long to die with a dagger in my back.' 

I grunted in annoyance. For an elf who was supposed to be light on his feet and good at stealth I was abysmal. It took only seconds to remove myself from the undergrowth and present myself to the bard. She was not in best spirits, having been intruded upon by a stranger sloping through the bushes. An elf fair of face with dark blonde hair, she was not overly pretty but nor could one call her average. She was exactly as a bard needed to be; beautiful enough to loosen tongues and plain enough to be forgotten when she left. It was evident she was not Dalish, she lacked the markings and dressed too well to be considered such. 

'Well if it isn't the white-haired Dalish who wanders the Imperial Highway.' She smirked. 'And here I thought you were just a ghost story to keep travellers off the road and warm the hearts of farmers' wives.' 

'I am quite real.' I crossed my arms, not quite knowing what to do with them. Whilst she was a rogue and I didn't doubt she could kill me quickly, she gave off more an irritated vibe; almost like killing me would require more effort than she could be bothered with. 

'Your hair is longer than I'd have thought.' She indicated the short tail running over my shoulder. 'Makes you seem more princely. They'll love that in Orlais.' 

'I figured I would try a new look.' I shrugged. I'd been growing it out the last three years on a whim. Garrett looked good with long hair, so I'd decided to try it as well. 'My name is Leto, Messere. And what might I call you?' 

'You have a silver-tongue too.' She laughed and casually went back to strumming chords on her lute. 'You are _full_ of surprises,' she looked up as her hand fell still, ' _Fenris_.' 

She smirked at seeing me flinch. 'How did you-' 

'I trade in information, dear. Being deaf and dumb to such obvious knowledge would make me a poor bard.' She looked me up and down again. 'But it seems I have you at a disadvantage. Sit, share my fire for the night. You can call me Refin.' 

I seated myself by the fire, warming myself but never looking away from her. The elf reminded me of a mountain lioness; if you took your eyes from her she would vanish into the shadows and you wouldn't know her again till her fangs were in your shoulder. 

'Excuse me for saying so,' I pressed on, 'but your name is very unusual.' 

'Aye it is.' She nodded. 'I know of only two who bear it. Myself and a dwarven child living by Lake Calenhad's docks. Sweet girl, takes more after her mother than her father thankfully.' 

_In for a copper, in for a sovereign Leto._ 'Perchance is your family name Tabris?' 

'Oh you are a clever one.' She oozed with sarcasm and I felt my ire sparking. She reminded me a little of Anders; no wonder the abomination liked her if she was indeed his Warden Commander. 'Yes, I am Fereldan Grey Warden Commander Refin Tabris; Ambassador to the Denerim Alienage, Cousin to the _Hahren_ of Denerim and best buddies with the King of Ferelden, His Majesty Alistair Theirin. Do you want the rest of my titles or are those ones enough?' 

I just blinked in surprise. It had been a while since anyone was so brash with me. 

'Like I said, Refin will do.' The elf snorted through her nose with irritation and set about playing a lazy tune on her lute. She gave up with an irritated groan. 'Little one, I will be as rude as I like.' 

Now the woman was talking to herself I began working more earnestly in concocting a thousand ways of how to leave her company. It was obvious the Blight was taking its toll on what was left of her mind. Anyone would go mad seeing the carnage she had in her lifetime, I couldn't blame her. However I also did not want to be around if she flipped and decided to kill the nearest thing to silence the voices she was hearing. Spending seven years in the company of Anders made me more than a little wary of people who talked to voices in their heads. The last one I had known had blown up a Chantry. 

'Oh Andraste's tits!' She cast the lute to her side and arched her back, stretching out the muscles. It was then I saw what was riling her. The bard was wearing leather armour, but had been forced to leave her stomach bear of protection save a loose shirt of thick green cloth. Her middle was heavily rounded, but in that delicate curved manner that indicated she was with child. She placed a gloved hand to the front of her stomach and rubbed a little. 'Enough, little one. I'll apologise.' 

Refin gazed at me carefully, as if weighing up whether I would attack her now I knew her delicate state. She must have decided I was docile enough, because she didn't try to hide herself and kept her expression smug. 

'I'm sorry for being so... me.' She sighed and dropped her pretence, appearing more tired now. 'I'm just cautious and fed up with people telling me what to do because I have a babe in my belly. Just please don't start with the whole "You shouldn't be travelling in your condition" thing because I nearly killed Zevran when he followed me to Cumberland.' 

'You've been travelling for some time then?' Carefully I danced around her request. 

'Aye, for the last seven years off and on. At first it was just Warden stuff, you know? Finding new recruits and helping 'em through their joining and what-not. The last two have been for a different reason, but you don't need to concern yourself with that. Not that it would've stopped me, but I didn't even know I was pregnant when I left this time.' 

'So the father-' 

'Has no idea, aye.' She nodded, then laughed gently. 'He'd be worried sick if he knew. Probably does know now; Zevran isn't one to keep his mouth shut about me. I'd write him, but then he'd just come after me. There's a freakin' hole in the sky. He has more to deal with than me wandering the planes with our child.' She gave another sigh. 

'So who is the father?' 

'Nosey, nosey.' Refin chided, looking a little irritated again. 'Look all you need to know is he's a Grey Warden, hence why we never thought this could happen and why I never get checked by a healer before I leave for a bit.' 

'A Grey Warden?' That was a surprise. Various drunken conversations with Anders had taught me a little of the elusive protectors. We were less inclined to bicker when soaked in wine and ale, so we discussed my markings and his taint, my being an ex-slave and him an apostate. Hawke always hoped it meant we were learning to get along, but when the next sober morning came we would be right back to snapping and glaring at one another. The abomination and the wild mutt. 

'Is it really that shocking?' She huffed. 'A Circle mage humps another Circle mage, an ex-slave lays with the Champion who saved him, a Grey Warden Commander removes her armour for the man she loves who just happens to be a Grey Warden too. It's the way love works in this world, the way the Maker finds it most amusing.' Her blue eyes piercing once more she looked my way. 'Now enough of what sits in my belly and why. It's you I'm currently more interested in. I've heard the gossip the merchants whisper of "the Dalish who travels the Highway", I've read _Tale of the Champion_ and sung more songs of Hawke and Fenris than I care to remember. What I want to know is the _truth_. Why is Leto of the Hinterlands trekking to Tevinter of all places, after the ex-Champion Hawke?' 

'They revoked his title?' It stung. After all he had worked for, Kirkwall blamed him for Anders' mistakes and turned their back on him. 'I see no harm in telling you my motives, but I do not wish this sung about the taverns. It is imperative I go about unhindered.' 

'Says the elf who glows when he gets miffed and stalks the roadside for everyone to see.' Refin raised an eyebrow and then wiggled to sit more comfortably against her pack. 'Alright, I promise. Go on.' 

So I told her everything; our flight from Kirkwall right through to why I now sat by her fire. To give the bard credit she listened intently and didn't interrupt once. It seemed she knew the importance of hearing a story entirely in the person's own words first, then clarifying second. People make mistakes when they lie and it is easy to spot; it's more difficult to notice if you keep giving them chances to pause and think things over. She gave a long exhale when I'd finished, and sat there thinking for a long while. One hand twitched for her lute strings then curled tight, whilst the other rubbed small circles on her rounded front. 

'That's not the epic I'd hoped for.' She frowned. Blunt honesty seemed her policy. 'You both became farmers and occasionally killed bandits? Huh, I thought you would both be in the Free Marches, staving off Templars and slavers, fighting till the death and spending the night in each other's arms.' 

'You sound like Isabela.' 

'Oh?' She smirked at my distaste and rummaged in the pack behind her, pulling out a small book bound in red leather. 'I've read some of her works. She's quite graphic, I'll give the pirate her due.' 

'What is that?' I ground out, getting to my feet and approaching her. 

The elf grinned and deftly flipped the book open, stopping me in my tracks. ' _"You're a Templar." Crowe let his eyes fall to his hands resting on his lap. "We can't be together this way." The elf clicked the door shut behind him, locking it in place. The mage looked up at the sound, his eyes finding the piercing green which held him so. "You let them rule your mind too much, mage." The Templar neared him, armour clinking as he moved. Crowe swallowed hard. Seeing the man up close was more than he could handle. How many times had they exchanged glances across the Circle library? How many times had he wanted the elf to take him there and then for all to-"_ ' 

'Enough.' I grabbed the book from her as she tittered at my annoyance. Flipping back to the beginning I found the title and author. 

_"Tower Romance by Rivani"_

I was going to throttle that woman when next I saw her. No, she would enjoy that. I would rip her still-beating heart out instead. 'I thought we burned all of these monstrosities back in Kirkwall.' 

'Oh that's the first and only edition of that one; all handwritten.' The bard winked. 'Got it from the woman myself, and it cost a pretty silver too.' 

'Why would you deem to read fictional smut about Garrett and I?' My voice was low, guarded and angry. 'You said you had a lover to keep you entertained.' 

'I do.' She shrugged. 'And don't worry I wasn't reading it to _enjoy_ myself, I was interested in learning as much about you two as I could. Smut it may be, but the woman who wrote it knows you both. She's bound to have accidentally put real facts in there every now and again. For example, on page thirty-six she slips up and writes _"Fen"_ instead of _"Ren"_ for the Templar's name. And on page seventy-one she gives a detailed description of the lovers. I doubt she truly knows what your markings look like beneath what your armour covers, Ser Templar, but she notes white hair, green eyes and lyrium markings. The mage Crowe bears _"hair dark as night and eyes so bright the sun cries for its lost rays."_ ' 

A snort escaped me. Isabela could daydream but she could never capture Hawke's true majesty. Inwardly I could hear her goading me, telling me to have a go then and write something better. The mage had finally succeeded in teaching me literacy in Fereldan and some Tevene, but I wouldn't waste his gift on something so ridiculous. A poem perhaps, I hadn't the skill for music. Yes, I would do that when I returned to the Hinterlands with him; watch as he lay in the morning sun and capture every inch of his beauty. 

'How does it end?' 

'Huh?' She had gotten lost in her own thoughts for a moment, her eyes drooping with tiredness. 'You'll have to find out yourself. You can have it, I've seen and heard the real thing now so I no longer have need of it. Mission complete.' 

I just gave a brief nod of thanks and tucked it into my sack. I wouldn't burn it just yet. It gave promise of an evening with Hawke like we had had in Kirkwall; the taste of sweet wine and the sound of his laughter as he broke character, unable to take the lewdness serious any longer. 

Settling myself back by the fire I watched the elf half-dozing. She woke herself after a short while and made her way over to the stew-pot, spooning it thickly into two bowls. Seeing her stood up only revealed how pregnant she was. I had to give Zevran some credit for his chivalry, the woman should not have been travelling in the condition she was in. Refin came over and handed me a bowl and spoon before sitting back in her place and cooling her own dinner. 

'You know I am headed to Minrathous now,' slowly I blew on the steaming broth, 'but where are you headed?' 

'Same place, actually.' She smiled as her first mouthful went down. 'I have a feeling the Magisters have what I'm after.' 

Scowling I rested my meal down. 'You cannot be serious. A pregnant elf is planning on infiltrating Minrathous, home of the Arcanum, alone?' 

'I'm a Grey Warden Commander.' She jabbed her spoon towards me. 'If they touch me my Order will have their heads for trophies.' 

'Warden or no, an elf is an elf to them, especially a female one.' For a moment we sat in silence and then I caught her eye. 'Let me accompany you.' 

Refin didn't even blink. 'What about finding Hawke?' 

'I can look for him whilst I help you. In all good conscience, I cannot let you enter that Fade-pit alone.' 

'There's a river over there.' She pointed again with her cutlery, this time through the bushes. 'You might want to look at your reflection. Sorry to break it to you Leto, but you're an elf too. A very handsome and sparkly elf.' 

'Do you want my assistance or not?' 

'Nope.' 

I sighed in irritation, which only seemed to fuel her more. She sat with a childish grin, spooning her dinner down her neck. Refin was definitely too much like Anders. 

'How in the Maker's name did you ever become a Grey Warden?' 

Refin paused a moment, her smile fading. 'I don't think you want the answer to that.' She gave a grunt of submission and then finished her dinner. 'Fine, you can come with me. But I call the shots, ok? As a thank you for your protection, I'll try to gather information on Hawke whilst we're there.' 

'Agreed.' 

'Good, now get some sleep when you're done.' She heaved herself up to go for a second helping. 'We're heading off at first light.' 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Shem'vehnan._ = Literally "Human's Heart", a word used for a human's elven lover or bride. (Non-canon).**

**)2) _Hahren._ = The name used for an elder/leader of a clan of elves.**

**3) _Shemlen._ = Elven word for humans, literally "Quick child".**

**4) _Vehnan._ = Heart.**

**5) _Elvhen._ = Elven work for their race, literally means "Our People".**

**6) _Ma vehnan._ =My heart, used like "My love" or "My darling".**

**6) _Ma serannas._ = Thank you.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the lyrics to "Once we were", they are owned by Bioware.


	10. The Call of the Wardens

It was uncomfortable to be within such lavish halls again. To stand dwarfed by the colossal statues and drapes of expensive green cloth was almost too much. My head kept sinking. It was only a ghostly feeling, but I swore I could feel the iron about my neck and the guards' stares on my back. They'd dressed me in robes of all things, long purple swags with Tevene patterns embroidered along its sleeves and hem. Without my sword and armour I felt naked, and without the fake _vallaslin_ it was obvious who I was. Danarius' pet had returned to Tevinter without his master. I'd heard the whispers in the marketplace already. 

"Who will own him now?" 

"Who dares to, more like." 

After a while I took to pacing the smooth tiles, bare feet cooled by the shaded stone. Outside one could see the flags waving from rooftops in the midday sun. Somewhere nearby a bard sang in Tevene of the might of its people, and how the Imperium would one day rise against the Black City. Even after the defeat of those Magisters who tried long ago, their people had a lot to learn. That didn't matter now though, not to me. 

Finally the doors at the end of the hall opened, the meeting adjourned. Several mages piled out, most ignoring me though some gave curious glances out of the corners of their eyes. He was the last to leave. Dressed in fine blue robes, crowned with a gold circlet and holding a staff of carved mahogany, Hawke looked like the Prince of the mages. He paused a moment, letting himself adjust to what he was seeing. 

'Leto?' He gasped and then threw all decorum to the wind. 

Racing down the hall we embraced one another. His hands found my shoulders and mine his waist and the back of his head. It had been almost a month since I saw him last, and now he was never leaving my sight again. 

'Garrett.' I made to kiss him, to feel those soft lips. 

There was a pain in my side as he threw me to the floor, a look of disgust on his face. Desperately I tried to unscramble my mind, tried to grasp what was happening. 

' _Vishante kaffas_! How dare you call me by that name.' He spat, his eyes aflame with fury. 'You will address me as Master, elf.' 

Hurt pierced my chest like an arrow. This wasn't like Hawke. He was behaving strangely, he was behaving like a Magister. 'I don't understand.' 

'It is very simple, elf.' He crossed his arms, honey eyes narrowing. 'I am your Master and you serve me.' 

'Garrett I-' I cried out as he stomped on my bare fingers with his boot heel. 

'What did I say, slave?!' 

'Master... I'm sorry, Master.' I ground out in pain, the hurt blistering as he removed his foot. 'I-I thought you loved me. Does our love mean nothing now?' 

'"Love"?' Hawke chuckled but instead of warming me, it sent chills down my spine. 'I have realised in our time apart that that love was merely a distraction stopping me from reaching my full potential. You were right about Tevinter, here a mage can truly be all he can be. And you,' he reached down and sharply grabbed my chin, 'my _incaensor_ , will be my personal catalyst. Isn't that what you want? Don't you want to help me become the most powerful mage Thedas has ever seen?' 

_No. No that's not what I want... I want my Garrett back!_

'Yes, Master.' He let me bow my head a moment, then lifted my chin again so he could see my tears. 

A cruel mirror of the smirk I adored. 'I do love you so, my Fenris.'

I yelled at the top of my lungs, causing the tent flaps to be yanked apart. Refin half-crawled out, dressed only in her underclothes and with a dagger in her hand. Though her hair showed she had just awoken, her eyes were keen in the early light. 

'Leto, what's-' She looked at me and sighed, releasing all the tension in her coiled muscles. 'Maker's breath! I nearly go into early labour all because you're having a nightmare! _Fenedhis lasa_!' 

I took a second to calm myself, cold sweat pouring down my back and chest. 'I-I am sorry, Refin.' 

She sighed and pulled her shirt out from behind her, shoving it over her head. 'Don't worry about it. I'm sorry, I know what it's like to be plagued by nightmares. Flames, Alistair and I hardly slept during the Blight and you should've heard Anders once he'd taken the joining. That boy could howl the roof down; calmed down a lot though once I gave him that kitten.' The elf paused a moment to think as she did up the laces at her neck. 'What did he call it? Pounce-something... Pounce-a-lot! That's it!' 

'Anders is a "boy" to you?' Frowning I glanced over her. The elf seemed rather young to be calling him such. 'What year were you born, Warden?' 

'9:10 Dragon.' She stretched and proceeded to try and wiggle into her leggings, for this I turned away. 

She was thirty-one, though I couldn't be certain of my own age I guessed from our appearances that made her a few years my junior. It took a moment to sink in. The fabled Hero had been but twenty-one when she slew the Archdemon and headed to quell a civil war in Amaranthine. She had been no more than a girl when the entirety of Thedas rested upon her shoulders. No wonder she looked so tired already. 

'Oh the markings don't stop at your chest, that's interesting.' Turning back round revealed she was taking a curiosity in my back and now my stomach. 'Purely on a healer's need-to-know, are the markings all over or are we talking limbs and upper torso thing only?' 

'You're not a healer, you do not need to know.' I replied gruffly, snatching up my armour and putting it on. Though the elf didn't seem the type, I was glad I'd worn my leggings as I slept. Her inquisitiveness seemed something to be rivalled with. 

'Fine.' She pulled a tongue and took to strapping her chest-guard on. 'I'll just ask Hawke when we meet him.' 

###### 

Even with Refin being as heavily burdened as she was, the she-elf made no hindrance on our journey speed. She kept up with my long strides without complaining, and berated me whenever I tried to slow our pace in case she needed to rest. When I inquired as to her stamina she merely shrugged and said it was "One part taint and two parts determination". We stayed away from the road wherever possible, Refin wanting to remain unseen. On our second day together we managed to cross the border, and by the third I demanded we set up camp for her to sleep. The Warden was not pleased, arguing that she was in charge and I was not obeying the rule she'd set out. The tune quickly changed when I threw a blanket at her; she curled into an angry ball and promptly fell asleep. _If she's not tired, I'm an_ Altus. I smirked to myself and set about lighting a fire. It was true I wasn't much of a cook, but I figured waking up to any warm meal would sate her temper. She awoke fresh-faced and eyeing the cooked nug hungrily. I believe I was forgiven. 

Five days later a large black bird arrived. At first I thought the creature to simply be looking for carrion, but after a few circles it looped downwards and perched atop Refin's extended arm. She removed a small scroll at its ankle, before gifting the bird with some seed she held in a pouch at her waist. 

'Come back by sundown, okay?' She whispered to the bird, who responded with a loud caw and took to the skies once more. Refin dumped her pack down and began rooting round inside the other bags on her belt. 'Smart things ravens. Leli made a good choice with them.' 

'I take it you were waiting for this letter?' Making my way over to a rock, I sat down. 

'About a week or so, yes. Ah there we go.' She pulled something out in triumph and rested them on her face, they appeared to be small pieces of glass held in place with twisted wire. 

'What are those?' 

'Seeing-lenses. I got them in the Anderfels about four or five years ago now. You wear them to help you see; work wonders.' Adjusting them she peered at the letter. 'I'm thinking about bringing one of their makers back to Ferelden once this sky-hole business is sorted.' 

Though I was loathe to interrupt her, the elf often gave me a headache with the amount of unsaid information. 'Why not have a healer help you? Surely Anders or that Enchanter Wynne could-' 

'I haven't seen Anders... in two years now?' She sighed and crumpled the note, stuffing it into her pack. 'And anyway it's not something magic can fix. My eyes are weakened not injured, so there's nothing magic can do. It's like an old man's bones going frail with age. Sure you can cover him in rock armour but that requires a mage to sustain the spell indefinitely.' 

'What did it?' 

'Too much reading, the taint being in my system, spending too long in caves. No one knows, it just is what it is.' 

Slowly I nodded, watching as she took out parchment, ink and a short quill. 'And what was in the letter?' 

'Andraste's burning ass, you're very chatty for an ex-slave.' Refin huffed and gave me a look of irritation. 'And here _Tale of the Champion_ casts you as _"the solitary elf, a man of few words to whom actions spoke louder."_ ' 

'And you are rather crass for a legendary Heroine.' The snap was childish, but so was she being. I was over my time in Tevinter, for the most part, but having it held against me like it was my choice to be imprisoned like that... 

She gave a roll of her eyes and peered at me over her seeing-lenses. 'It's a note from Skyhold, from one Inquisitor Lavellan. You've heard of her I take it?' 

'Who hasn't?' 

'Well I wrote to her of my current journey, and inquired as to how the Inquisition was coming along.' Gently she pushed the wire-frame up her nose. 'Turns out the whole green-glowing-sky-issue was started by some Darkspawn named Corypheus. Normally Darkspawn are dangerous enough, but nothing we can't handle; been there, done that, drank the taint and slew the Fade-beast myself. There's a problem this time round though. It isn't an Archdemon leading them, this Corypheus is apparently an ancient Magister.' 

I growled low in my chest. My suspicions had been correct then, Hawke was heading to Tevinter; perhaps not to save me, but to stop this "Corypheus". What I couldn't gather was how the whole thing was his fault. Something tugged at the back of my mind but I couldn't figure it out. 

'How ancient?' 

'Oh just one of the original morons who decided it would be laughs and giggles to invade the Golden City and try to kill the Maker.' She snorted a laugh seeing my reaction. 'Shut your mouth, dear. You'll catch flies.' After a pause to scribble down her returning message, she sealed it with hot wax from her pocket and then pressed a locket she wore into the cooling red puddle. 'And that's not all I have to worry about. Alistair, despite my advice to stay put and sent a guard detachment, paraded himself down to Redcliffe to deal with the Magister there personally. I'm thankful Lavellan got to Alexius first.' Without warning she stood and stormed to a nearby tree, pulled her arm back and then brought all her force into her fist. It didn't do much damage, but the bark certainly gave a pained crack sound. 'I've got enough to deal with at the moment, I don't need this.' 

'Garrett used to tell me "Talking makes people feel better" whenever he found me in such a state.' She turned to look at me as I spoke, her angry face interrupted only by a sorrowful expression dawning in her eyes. 'You have heard my tale and my reasons for heading this way, Refin. It might help if I share your burden.' 

She gave a weak laugh and bowed her head, resting her brow against the tree trunk. 'Maybe you're right. Bottling this _fenedhis_ up isn't helping, and I need to talk to someone. I feel like I'm going crazy, Leto. Flames, maybe I am.' 

Gently I patted the grass beside me, and she came and sat. Refin removed her seeing-lenses and tucked them carefully into her largest pouch. 

'I won't bore you with the details, but needless to say this sort of started about two-years-ago. I was staying at the castle in Denerim at the time, the time I awoke and first heard the Calling. It terrified me, to know that the taint was telling me I was going to die. You can feel the pull of the Deep Roads, the same calling that tells a Darkspawn where home is. Turns out Alistair heard it too. We spent the night drinking in his study, trying to fathom why we were both being called at once. You have to understand, we're young for Wardens, we were made young. The taint isn't supposed to call you for decades, forty years if you're lucky. Less than ten is unheard is of. 

'So we drank till our heads hurt and we couldn't cry any more, by then the sun was up and we still couldn't fathom what to do. There was no real issue about me, I could just wander off into the caverns and no one would bat an eye save my friends who fought the Blight with me. But Alistair, he is King of Ferelden but has refused to take a Queen or concubine since the Landsmeet refused to acknowledge our love. Anora had no children by Cailan; we had waited after his death and no child appeared. Alistair couldn't make the journey into the Roads, he couldn't leave a nation with no ruler. So I swore to him I would use my remaining life to search for a cure to the taint and its Call; even if I couldn't save myself I would save him and all other Wardens from it. 

'Of course he didn't want me to go. He was frightened, we both were. But I had to do this. This was my charge to... to make amends for what I asked him to do all those years ago. That night before we slew the Archdemon, Alistair had put his entire faith in me and now I needed him to do it again. 

'I came and went from Denerim for months, trying to find to anything that would help. I spent an age in Orzammar and then weeks in the Deep Roads themselves. I slept in Thaigs and cleared out more Darkspawn than I think I ever fought during the Blight. The Calling sang each day, stronger and stronger till I thought I was losing my mind. And then the voice came. It was hard to make out at first, more a garbled mess of half-sayings. One morning I woke up and it sounded clear as day, it was the Maker and His voice spoke to me. He never called me by name, but He warned me that one of His own were coming and that all Wardens should follow his cause without question. Another Blight was coming, and we were to use his magic to finally put an end to the Darkspawn. It would mean the death of all Wardens, but our sacrifice would keep Thedas safe for eternity. 

'It was then I realised Alistair and I weren't the only Wardens who'd received their Calling. Every Warden in Thedas was being Called. So I fled from the Deep Roads and returned to Denerim. There I told Alistair everything and we began preparing; summoning more recruits for the joining and having armour and weapons made. The sorts of things leaders do when war is coming. We didn't question what the Maker was telling us; after all Leliana had found us in Lothering all those years ago, and she'd said the Maker gave her a vision to join us and help the Blight. We thought that just maybe this was a way our Calling could mean something. Three months later we were proved wrong. 

'Late last year Warden Commanders came from all over to discuss this new Blight. The night before they arrived, the voice came again to me but something wasn't right this time. I can't say how I knew, but it didn't sound like Him, like the Maker or however heavenly it sounded before. It was the same for Alistair when I spoke to him the next morning; we'd both been plagued afterwards by nightmares so vivid it was like the Archdemon had risen again. When the meeting of Warden Commanders took place they announced that Warden Commander Clarel had been in contact with some Venatori Magister or some such. He'd convinced her that blood magic would save Thedas, and the idiot believed he was the one the Maker had spoken of. I voiced my opinions that this Calling was just a Darkspawn masquerading as the Maker. That it was not the voice of our Lord we were hearing and that no Blight was on its way; that this was a plot to destroy all Grey Wardens in one swoop and to taint our legacy with blood magic and demons. 

'They wouldn't hear of it. They shouted me down and denied Alistair's claims when he tried to support me. We were both labelled heretics and they removed my Wardens from my care, giving them Clarel. Alistair was furious, he ordered the Warden Commanders from the palace and locked himself in his room for days. When he finally emerged I told him I was leaving to find a cure for this once and for all. This time he didn't try to stop me. I think he knew how important it was. Anyway, after months of poking around and gathering what knowledge I could, I found out about this Corypheus. Knowing now that he's a Tevinter Magister, ancient or not, means there has to be knowledge in Tevinter of how to mess with a Warden's taint. If I can find that control I can save the Wardens before Clarel dooms them all.' She swallowed hard, biting back tears as she rested her hands on her stomach. 'I have to do this Leto, I can't fail. I won't let those monsters kill my child for a _letharais_ demon.' 

So she was looking for a cure to the Darkspawn taint. There were more ridiculous and hopeless causes to have, and at least hers was a noble one. 

'Will your child be born with the taint?' I asked gently. 

'I don't know.' Refin sighed and refused to look up from where her child lay. 'There aren't many precedents. The damned taint it supposed to make us practically infertile. All I know is that I don't want it to die, especially not for blood magic or that creature.' She spat on the ground. 

'Do you feel any better, telling me these things?' 

'Not really.' Slowly she looked to me, a small curve in her lips. 'But I thank you anyway. It's nice to know I'm not alone in this. Alistair can't leave Ferelden, and I've been alone for too long. Maybe that's why I've been so cranky with you.' 

'I was blaming the morning sickness.' I gave her a smirk and she punched me playfully in the arm. 

'I am sorry, Leto. I guess we knife-ears have to stick together, right?' 

'Especially now we're in Magister territory.' We shared a mutual look of distaste before the rogue went to gather her thrown things. I gently pushed her back down and went to get them myself, she gave me a frown but did nothing to stop me. 

'I reckon we're about two days from Minrathous.' Refin looked about the shaded tree-line, possibly hoping her bird would return sooner. 'We should keep going and rest before we enter the capital.' 

'If you feel that's best.' 

'Whoa, hold it.' She looked to me with wide-eyes. 'Leto the stubborn warrior is finally listening to me? What gives?' 

'Perhaps this ex-slave has finally learnt to hold his tongue,' I quipped, 'or maybe he knows when to stop being an ass.' 

'A lesson I too need to learn, it seems.' She gave a laugh, and pulled an apple from her pack. 'Might as well make this a meal stop.' 

I caught the other one she threw with ease. 'Yes, Warden Commander.' 

She pointed a finger at me. 'That's enough lip from you.' 

'Yes, Ma'am.' 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Vallaslin._ = The markings Dalish tattoo onto their faces, literally it means "Blood Writing".**

**2) _Vishante kaffas._ = A curse referring to something distastefully said, literally "You sh*t on my tongue".**

**3) _Incaensor._ = Tevene word for a dangerous magical substance. It can also be used in derogatory slang as a word for a magic-using slave.**

**4) _Fenedhis lasa._ = An elven swear, an expansion on _Fenedhis._**

**5) _Altus._ = A rank in the Tevinter Imperium. A mage who is from a long lineage of magical blood.**

**6) _Fenedhis._ = Elven swear, possibly means "cr*p".**

**7) _Letharais._ = Roughly translates to "f**king". (Non-canon).**


	11. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Fenris/Leto is fluent in Tevene, wherever Tevene is spoken at length I've written the English in italics. Italics surrounded by speech marks ( " ) is where characters are quoting from a text.
> 
> Sorry for the confusion ^.^'

Once the raven had taken wing again we packed up our belongings and headed for the trail. It was easier going now. Closer to civilisation even the forest paths became more like dirt roads, gentle underfoot and clear of fallen trees. Every-so-often there was a scattering of stone slabs pressed deep into the mud, the only signs of someone's attempt in making a real causeway. The forest was a wild mistress and was having none of it. She had swallowed their bricks and dashed their intentions to the wind. Even the Tevene give up after a couple hundred slaves drop dead from exhaustion. At one point Refin stopped and crouched by the roadside, wiping away the years of decay from a small slab. She showed me the small scratchings made with the blunt of a knife. The same process, but different markings were present on every brick in the cluster.

'They're names.' She looked to me from over her shoulder. 'Why would someone do this?'

'Once all I had was my name.' I crouched beside her and cleaned another of the stones. 'And even that was a mockery, a brand my Master used to erase my true self. Here you have to hold onto anything you can, even in death.'

'These are...'

'Grave markers.'

Refin looked disgusted. 'They buried their workers under the road? They didn't even give them a proper funeral?' Slowly her finger traced each letter. ' _"Kirita"_ , _"Sulas"_ , _"Fenvar"_... These are all elven names.'

'I warned you what this place it like.' Slowly I raised myself from my haunches and clapped the dust from my hands. 'There are human slaves too, but _Elvhen_ far outweigh them. We must be careful, there are no doubt slavers patrolling these woods. This close to Minrathous they'll be looking for escapees or possible candidates.'

The bard nodded and then turned back to face the markers. She muttered something under her breath, Fereldan peppered with half-remembered Dalish words, then stood. We pressed on without more words, and didn't speak till the sun was resting; our thoughts heavy even with the elven grave far behind us.

###### 

If there was one thing I was thankful for in Refin's personality, it was that she could flip a switch and seemingly swap moods. Had I never been to Kirkwall, I would've simply chalked it up to her hormones and mentioned nothing more on the subject. But during my time in that troubled city I had met a mage who wore his smile as a mask.

  


"Hawke? Hawke!"

A groan as he opened one eye. "Fenris, is... is the Arishok...?"

"Dead, yes. But you are badly hurt. Abomination get over here!"

"I have a name, _elf_."

"What's the diagnosis, doctor?" He chuckled low, coughed and wiped the blood from his chin. He didn't see his fingers were bleeding, spreading the red further across his cheek.

"I need to get you to the clinic now." The healer pushed stray blonde strands out of his eyes. "Maker, there's so much blood."

"Fen. Fen come here." I neared him once more, and knelt beside him. He took hold of my chin, hand sticky against my skin. A wide grin spread across his face. "There we go. If I'm going to die I want my last sight to be something beautiful."

  


_Foolish mage._ He always had been. Three times I had seen him truly broken where a smile couldn't even be faked; once was by my own hand, and afterwards I had vowed never to see him that way again. I failed as two mages shattered him in the years that followed. But once he had thought it through, once the tears stopped and his heart began to mend the mask returned. A smile for the world whilst beneath it his heart crumbled like glass into sand. Refin and Hawke wear their masks as well as any Orlesian might, and only we blessed few may dance with them and learn what lies beneath.

'Ok, I give; I'm curious.' She rested her bowl down on the rock she was using as an armrest.

'When are you ever not, bard?' I sighed.

'What's with the thing on your wrist? The band thing.'

The red burned brightly as I held my wrist aloft and twisted it before my own face. 'It is a favour.'

'A what?'

I gave an irritated exhale to which she raised an eyebrow. 'It is a symbol of my love for Garrett. A reminder of the bond between us, and a warning flag for others to stay away.'

'Is that why it's red?'

'No.'

'So why is it? And what did you make it out of? Surely that means something?'

'It does, but it's not for you to-'

She stopped me by reaching around her neck and pulling out her necklace. It was the locket I'd seen her press into the wax earlier. Slowly she unclasped it and placed it in my palm.

'I suppose this is my favour then.'

She smiled gently at the silver charm. Turning it over I could make out engravings. On one side the emblem of two griffons, back to back, protecting a chalice held in their talons. The other bore a shield, with two long-tailed mabari facing one another. The symbols of the Grey Wardens and Ferelden. I gave her a short glance, a silent request for permission to open it. The elf nodded, and so I gently pulled the pendant apart. Within lay a small portrait, painted so finely it must have taken the artist countless hours with a miniature brush. The picture detailed a man dressed in the blue of a Grey Warden's armour, his golden hair shining and his face alight with a smile.

'He asked not to be painted in his royal attire.' Refin smiled gently at the mural, half-lost to her own memories. 'I think he likes me to still think of him as that junior Warden who greeted me in Ostagar.'

'King Alistair?' Gently I closed the locket and passed it back to her.

'Aye.' She fiddled with the clasp and refastened it around her neck. 'He gave me this the night of his coronation. Silly fool apologised that he couldn't put a ring on my finger, like it was his fault. Alistair is not to blame for me being born what I am, just as I cannot change the fact he bears royal blood. He was and still is the best ruler Ferelden could have.'

I glanced down to her stomach, noting her hands gently stroking at the roundness. 'So then, I take it the child is his?'

With a soft smile she nodded. 'The council refuse to let us marry, but they do not state we cannot act as man and wife behind our bedroom door. To all who see us together we are the King of Ferelden and the Grey Warden Commander, but we steal our moments when no one is looking; hands held beneath a feast table, stolen glances across the throne room and secreted kisses in the alcoves. I suppose there are those who suspect, but no one ever cares to mention it. After all there was no danger. Most probably assume the King will take a Queen any day now, and with us both being Wardens there was no danger of a bastard being born.' She gave a laugh and grinned fondly to her stomach. 'You showed them, little one.'

'You say the King refuses to take a Queen if he cannot have you;' spooning more stew into my bowl I then sat back, 'a man I admire, for standing up for his love and beliefs. But does that mean your child will be acknowledged as his heir?'

Refin gave a thoughtful look then shrugged. 'Can't say since no one even knows the babe exists yet. Oh there will be meetings and Alistair will no doubt get a thrashing by the council, demanding he marry and make a _proper_ heir before our child is old enough to understand what "birthright" means. But I know my love. He'll refuse and look for ways to meddle with the laws and get our child legitimised as a successor.' She paused a moment, considering something. Then looked to me, seriousness growing in her expression. 'Alistair does have one other child though. I don't its name or even what gender the child is, neither does he. Leto, may I burden you again?'

'If you believe it will ease you, yes.'

'The night before we went to fight the Archdemon, Morrigan came to me. She was a Witch of the Wilds and had learnt a great many magics from her mother, and later her mother's grimoire. When an Archdemon is slain its soul is transferred into the body of the Grey Warden who kills it, but the taint and power are too much for a mortal to withstand and it kills both the demon's soul and the Warden. It is the ultimate sacrifice and the reason we are considered heroes.' She corrected herself. 'The reason we _should_ be considered heroes. Morrigan told me she knew of a way both Alistair and I could survive the battle, but it would require an ancient magic, closely akin to blood magic. She needed to lay with a Warden, this would produce a child and during the slaying of the Archdemon its soul would be drawn into the unborn infant like a beacon. The demon would die, the Blight would end and no one had to be sacrificed. I spent hours plaguing her with questions; ensuring it wasn't truly blood magic, that the child would not be harmed or tormented by containing the soul and such. The choice however was not mine; I am a woman and could not father Morrigan's babe and so we turned to Alistair. He was reluctant at first but once the mage answered all his questions, he agreed to the pact. The spell was cast and after the Archdemon fell Morrigan fled. Sometime later I managed to track her down even though she had asked me not to. We embraced as sisters, just as we'd been all through the Blight, and she left through an Eluvian mirror. After that I heard nothing of her save rumours that an apostate matching her description had been seen wandering, belly rounded with child.'

For a moment I sat completely dumbfounded, but when I realised Refin was watching me for a reaction I carefully guarded myself. 'That is... quite the tale. So Morrigan's child can claim the throne?'

'If it is a boy, theoretically yes. He would have more claim to it as Alistair's firstborn.' She sighed. 'But Morrigan promised Alistair that she would never make such a demand. Sometimes I wonder if she has told the child of its origins and who its father is. I miss Morrigan terribly.'

'Do you know where she is now?'

'Aye, Orlais. She's working as the Empress's advisor in all things magic. But I cannot go to her, not yet. First I must solve this damned taint and the Calling.'

The elf shivered and drew her cloak tighter, looking to the sky. She mouthed the words of three constellations to steady herself and then seemed to eye her tent wearily. As she rose to head over to it, I placed my bowl aside.

'...sheet.'

She spun on her heel and furrowed her brow. 'Sorry?'

'My favour.' I couldn't look her in the eye, my cheeks burned a little. 'My favour is a scrap of Garrett's bedsheet from when we lived in Kirkwall.'

'Red silk sheets?' She giggled and padded her way over to the tent flaps. 'My, my. Who knew the Champion had such elaborate tastes? He must have been miffed when he saw you'd torn his bedding.'

'On the contrary,' a sudden surge of pride made me look at her, 'he joked that if I dared wear it to boast bedding him, he would make the rest into robes to commemorate bedding me.'

She was still laughing when I'd finished tidying up and the moon had begun to rise.

###### 

Something wasn't right. I'd been keeping watch for a few hours, refusing to sleep since we were so close to the Magister nest. Ordinarily I'd have filled my time whetting my blade or pondering what I would say to Hawke when we finally reunited, however I couldn't quite settle. The air was too still. It felt like something was coiled, ready to pounce and was just awaiting the right time. Quietly I removed my blade from its harness and laid it beside myself, eyes keen to the shadows. Though initially I had been a little worried about being involved with a mage, now I was ever more thankful for it. I smelt the lightning before it was cast.

Snatching up my sword I darted to the side, the bolt missing me by a foot. I called for the Warden, but her tent didn't stir. How the rogue could have slept through the ear-splitting crack was beyond me. There wasn't much time for anything else. Suddenly a volley of ice spikes shot through the the clearing. Had I been any other elf, I'd have deftly leapt out the way. Yet I am not an ordinary elf, so I had to make do with bringing my blade up and carving them in half. Sword still protecting my body I moved backwards, letting the fire become my rearguard. Against mages it wouldn't do much, particularly if they had a fire-specialised mage with them or dowsed it in ice, but for now it was better than nought.

'Come out, mage.' I snarled. 'Do not cower in the shadows!'

There was a dark laughter as the tree-line shadows moved. Slowly three hooded mages emerged, two men and a woman by the looks of their figures. The tallest man already had another lightning ball crackling in his palm. Being hit or healed with magic hurts me, and many years ago merely being in the presence of magic would have sent my lyrium flaring. Hawke's training was good, but there is only so much I can repress. My lyrium is linked to my body; enchanted and wound into my skin and bone, my blood and everything I am. Like a dog raises its hackles or a snake rises to bear its hood, my markings instinctively glow to warn off attackers. This I can mostly control, it is the same as restraining it when I grow angry. However trying to ward the power back when I am emotional and there magic nearby is impossible. Through my leather armour and green paint the markings shone a menacing blue.

The woman laughed, then spoke to her comrades in Tevene. _'Would you look at that. Nerva, Sabinus, I think we found ourselves something a little better than just two new slaves.'_

_'That's lyrium.'_ The shorter man she addressed as Sabinus smirked from beneath his hood. _'Can you feel it calling in your blood?'_

I switched my hold on the sword, becoming offensive. _'You will not take us, mage-scum!'_

A low chuckle as a firebolt was summoned. _'Ah it speaks our tongue. Good, then it will know how to take orders. Let us be quick about this, I want to be back in the capital by daybreak.'_

Dodging the firebolt and the lightning that followed moved me away from the protection of the flames at my back. Possibly a good thing in hindsight, since Nerva had a good grip on fire. A wave of pain clamped shut around my ankles and I cried out. Looking down revealed I had made a stupid mistake. Normally Hawke was with me. Hawke would dispel all magical traps before I could think about treading on one. The glyph of paralysis shone, filling the clearing with a green light as it clung to my lower limbs and quickly began to work its way up my body. Inch by inch I became a living statue, the only movements allowed were to breathe and blink.

_'Well that was ridiculously easy. I thought this one was supposed to be a warrior or something.'_

_'He is, but he's not used to fighting alone. Didn't you see his stance? I think he normally fights with a mage at his back. Good call on the glyph, Aelia.'_

The woman bobbed a short curtsey. _'I aim to please, Nerva.'_

_'Speaking of not fighting alone,' there was a rustle as one of them peered into the tent, 'didn't our report say there were two elves?'_

_'Eh, don't worry about it. The other one was a she-elf.'_

_'She-elves go for a lot of money in the Red District, Sabinus.'_

_'True, but her belly is full. We couldn't sell her for a few months, unless you want to cut the kid out of her?'_

_'Screw that. I'm no child-killer and I'm not wasting money on keeping her.'_

_'No you idiots, think about it again.' The woman moved over into my field of view. She smirked. 'She's travelling with a male elf, so it's likely he's the father. If he has lyrium in his blood then the child will too.'_

One of them rubbed his hands in glee. _'Two lyrium-enhanced elves? Think of what we could get for them! And if one's a whelp, it could be trained from birth. A Magister would pay handsomely for them.'_

_'Spread out and find her.'_

Aelia stayed with me, maintaining her glyph as she retrieved manacles and a pair of iron collars from her stash in the bushes. So these weren't just mages, they were slavers. I could do nothing as she entered the space of her spell and closed the iron around my wrists and neck. Their weight sank into my bones and with it a feeling of dread. The only flicker of hope now was that Refin had gotten far enough away. She could sneak into Minrathous and find Hawke; if he could find the slavers then he could either kill them or "buy" me, granting my freedom again. The last thought surfaced the memory of the Magister dream, the one where Hawke threw me to the ground and demanded my obedience, but I pushed it back. Hawke would never be like that, the dream was a silly thing concocted of my worst irrational fears.

_'You are a pretty thing.'_ The mage hummed, inspecting my face more closely as she fiddled with the collar's lock. _'I wonder if your new Master will make you a bodyguard or a shiny bauble to impress at dinner parties?'_

_Both if he is like Danarius_ , I thought wearily. The glyph was beginning to sap at my energy now, it wouldn't be long till I was too fatigued to move even when it was removed.

There was a noise in the bushes and the two mages emerged, dragging something heavy behind them. They laid it at Aelia's feet. It was Refin, clad in her amour and bound in manacles. Her eyes were closed and a ribbon of red flowed from her brow down her cheek.

_'Put up a fight this one did.'_ Sabinus grumbled and tossed two daggers by the elf's body. _'Bloody thing was trained in knives. Moved like a shadow and all.'_

_'Two combat-trained parents and lyrium in its blood.'_ Nerva announced happily. _'The price of the child goes up and up.'_

Aelia knelt and inspected Refin's wound, her hand glowing white with healing magic. _'You didn't kill her, did you?'_

_'Just knocked out.' He shrugged lightly. 'Even that weighed down, she moved and bolted like a deer. She didn't see Sabinus though and he got her with his staff.'_

Sabinus straightened his robes with pride as Aelia rolled her eyes. _'Come on then, enough yammering. We need to get these two back to Minrathous; the market's at dawn.'_

My body sagged as the glyph was released and I fell to my knees. Nerva gathered my blade, the daggers and our travel packs whilst Sabinus dragged us both by our chains. At the roadside we were loaded into a cage on the back of a large cart. The three mages road up front, leaving me to watch over the sleeping Warden. Inwardly I cursed my stupidity at falling for their trap, for not protecting Refin and for now not having enough energy to try and spring the lock. Defeated I slumped back against the bars and did the only thing I could. I slept.

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Elvhen._ = Elven work for their race, literally means "Our People".**


	12. The trade

'Leto? Leto can you hear me?' 

Everything ached and I felt too tired to open my eyes. The voice came again, begging me to wake up. I pushed that thought aside. Anything that required more effort than breathing was too much, I hadn't even the capacity to dream as I lay there. She begged a third time and I gave a grunt of dismissal. It seemed to placate her, settling her in the knowledge that I was still alive. 

'This is bad. This is very very _letharais_ bad.' There was noise as she moved about; the dragging of something heavy and metallic accompanied by the soft slap of bare feet on stone. 'Those damned mages! Sneaking up on our camp and attacking while we slept. Flames take them!' There was a snarl of metal quickly turning, she must have rounded to look at me. 'Maker damn you! Leto wake up!' 

I groggily opened one eye. We were in a small room built of dark stone blocks. There was a single door and a small window high up, with thick bars preventing escape. Refin stood with her arms crossed, looking more furious than Meredith had when Anders blew up the Chantry. I didn't look at her longer than necessary to gauge her expression as she'd been stripped down to her smallclothes. From the coldness I felt beneath me, I realised they'd done the same to me as well. 

There was a banging at the door and a small slat opened to reveal an irritated set of eyes. _'Oi! Quiet in there!'_

Refin merely glared the guard down till he slammed the viewing door shut and we heard footsteps stomp away. With a groan of pain I pushed myself into a sitting position. Truly everything felt like I'd run full pelt into a stone pillar. As I moved I noted the fake _vallaslin_ had been washed off my hands and arms; I imagined the rest of my fake markings were gone too. Suddenly I became aware of how naked I was. Not since my years in Tevinter had I ever been so bare before anyone but Hawke, and I was quickly struck with embarrassment. I sat on my folded legs and placed my hands to cover my lap. 

'Sorry, this isn't your fault.' She sighed and looked away from me. 'It just aggravates me when someone bests me in battle. I'm a Grey Warden Commander, for Maker's sake! I should be able to defend myself.' 

'You're not at your best.' I excused, mouth dry. We must've been in there at least half a day by my reckoning of the sun's position, either that or days. 'I imagine it's extremely difficult to run, let alone fight with several pounds added to your front.' 

'I'm thinking I might make it a training exercise when I get back.' She joked. 'Make all the Wardens strap sacks of heavy things to their fronts and criticise their technique. "I fought off Tevinter mages with this sort of handicap! You're an embarrassment to the Wardens!"' She gave a snort, but as quick as it came her smile fled. 

'I don't remember them doing this.' I indicated to our state of undress. 

'You wouldn't.' She sighed. 'You started kicking up a fuss when they started getting us out of the cage, and the tall one knocked you out with a sleep spell. I tried to follow your lead but my concussion was making everything a little fuzzy. I woke up about an hour ago, been trying to wake you ever since. It's getting to me, I don't like being confined and I can't even understand what the bloody mages are mumbling about.' 

'You don't speak Tevene?' 

'A Tevinter mage was cursing at Zevran once, so he shouted something back in Tevene. Later when I asked what it was he taught me the sentence but not what it meant. That's all I know.' 

'And what was it?' 

She paused, considering the pronunciation. _'Futue te ipsum.'_

I blinked in surprise then laughed. 'Yes I believe that will get you very far in Tevinter, especially if you say that to our new Master.' 

'What did I say?' 

'The gentlest way I can put this in Fereldan is "Go and pleasure yourself".' 

She gave a chuckle and then frowned. 'But you _can_ speak Tevene, can't you?' 

'One of the only perks of being born a slave here, yes.' I sighed but she seemed to be more relaxed knowing that at least one of us knew what was happening around us. 'Can you remember if the mages said anything? Even if you can't pronounce it, try.' 

She shook her head sadly. 'No, I can't remember much and even that's garbled by pain and magic. Do you have any ideas as to how we get out of this?' 

'Two.' I held up a finger. 'The short term plan is we try to escape at the first available opportunity, grab a weapon and fight our way out.' I held up a second finger. 'The long term plan is if that fails, and they don't kill us for it, we sit tight and try to bear through this while looking for an opportunity to find Garrett.' 

'Let's hope the first one works then. I don't want my child born a Tevinter slave, no offence.' 

'None taken.' I eyed the door. 'Have they brought food or water yet? Or come in to check our injuries?' 

'No, and I don't think they're going to.' Refin indicated to her brow and I saw the wound from earlier was gone, the blood washed away. 'I think they did all that while examining us, and something tells me they don't care if we lose a few pounds.' 

' _Benefaris_...' I growled low. 

Our discussion was interrupted by a clattering at the door. I instinctively moved and got to my feet, gently pushing Refin back into a corner and blocking her with my body. Eyes glued to the door I waited for it to open. When the heavy wood was swung inwards it revealed Nerva and a man dressed in rich gold and blue robes; red haired with a full beard and moustache, his eyes glinting hungrily. It was then I realised where we were being kept. I had accompanied Danarius here many times in my younger years. These were the holding cells in the slave market, a place where the rich Tevinters would come and browse for a new slave or six. Slaves of a family were kept in the same cell, allowing a buyer to examine the choices like choosing a pup from a litter; seeing all their options whilst looking for any noticeable defects in the other relatives that he should be wary of. To be held this way meant they thought Refin and I were family. As I peeked over my shoulder to her I remembered the mages talking the night before. 

_"She's travelling with a male elf, so it's likely he's the father. If he has lyrium in his blood then the child will too."_

I could use this to my advantage and keep Refin safe. So long as they believed the child was mine she would be cared for and free of labours and punishments. No one would risk damaging a potential _incaensor_ , especially if it would be born with a skill as rare as my own. 

_Here they are.'_ Nerva addressed the other man. _'As you can see, they are of the finest stock. The male bears lyrium bound to his flesh, which we believe grants him strength whilst his Master would also reap enhancement benefits to his own magical abilities.'_

The mage was lying through his teeth. He had no idea what my lyrium markings did and did not do. I hadn't had chance to use them in the previous battle, so all he knew for certain was that they glowed and somehow connected to the magic in a mage's blood. Still I didn't feel the need to correct him. No, I'd savour the truth and reveal it to him as I pulled his heart out of his chest. 

_'And there is a female, who I'm afraid he's blocking at the moment. You know how defensive elves get of their mates.'_ I scowled at this. The horrid familiarity of being spoken about like an animal was like being submerged in ice water. _'She is currently bearing his child, who we have no doubts will bear the same lyrium gifts as its father. Now of course ordinarily I would like to sell the male, the female and the child separately; however, if you're truly interested, I can make an exception and sell the three of them as-'_

'What are they saying?' Refin hissed gently behind me. 

'He's selling us.' I whispered back, eyeing the men carefully but they were too engrossed in their own conversation to notice us. 'I need you to play along with what I do, no questions. Can you do that?' 

'Well I'm guessing my life depends on it.' 

'Good. Now I need you to be as unlike yourself as you can be, and refer to me as _ma vehnan_.' 

'You're kidding...' 

I shot her a glare over my shoulder. 'I do not have the time presently.' 

_'Of course you can, my Lord.'_ The slaver bowed and extended an arm towards us. 

I hardened my expression and steeled myself, making my cage around Refin more intimidating. As the man neared I allowed my lyrium to flare. The red-haired man's face spread into more of a mirthful smile. He took hold of the chain about my neck and pulled hard. I was forced to my knees. 

_'He's of good breeding, I will give you that, Nerva.'_

I tried to get up, but he yanked the chain again. Pain roared through my neck as I choked. _'Stay away from my wife.'_

_'Oh how quaint, the elf thinks he can protect her.'_

He bellowed a laugh and proceeded to approach Refin. From my new place on the floor I caught sight of her again. Everything about her had changed. No longer the grizzled Warden who shielded herself in sarcasm and wit, she produced a strange aura of fragility and sadness. Covering her chest with one arm, and wrapping the other around her stomach, she looked to the man as if she might burst into tears at any moment. 

_'Come darling,'_ he cooed as if trying to soothe a frightened mare, _'I just want to get a look at you, that's all.'_

Refin backed herself into the corner a little more, turning her back to him and trying to use the stone to barricade her front. 

_'Leave her alone!'_ I roared. Only to receive Nerva's boot in my gut. 

Catching her arm, the buyer managed to spin her round. He glanced her over and then clicked his fingers to get the mage's attention. 

_'I will take all three.'_ He declared. _'Ten gold pieces.'_

_'You can't be serious.'_ Nerva scowled. _'On her own the female is worth twelve.'_

_'Ten gold pieces.'_ The man repeated, his tone gaining some gravity. _'Or shall I inform the Magister that you do not accept his generous offer?'_

Nerva quickly shut up. _'No, no. Please, allow me to offer a reduced price. Nine gold pieces.'_

_'His Excellency would not want to see you out of pocket, good Sir.'_ The haggling was only a formality at this point. Dropping a title like Magister meant "Now I'll do as I like and woe betide you if you try and stop me". _'Ten.'_

Refin and I did not argue as we were led from the holding cell. There was no cart as we were led through the streets. No, this was about showing off. A man leading two new slaves home meant he had come into power and wealth; he would be the envy of the capital by supper time. It pleased me somewhat that the man who had bought us was not our intended owner. I disliked the way his gaze lingered over the Warden. Though her act of innocence did not wane once, I was sure that beneath it the rogue was bubbling with fury. I would give her her revenge as soon as I could, and then we would find her cure and Garrett. 

###### 

Our new home was a palatial mansion on the west side of the city, which took all of an hour to walk to from the market. It was strange because there was something familiar about the route we took. I then realised it was because the Magister lived in the same district as Danarius had. The day just kept getting better and better. My stomach took a sickening turn as we passed through the gates and I glimpsed the heraldry carved there. It must have shown on my face, because Refin looked to me. 'What's wrong?' She whispered, eyeing a pair of elven gardeners who had stopped to watch us. 'Do you know the family?' 

All I could do was nod. 

The gold robes led us inside, past several fanciful rooms and displays of artwork, none of which I care to mention nor remember too vividly. The nausea was growing worse, and my flight instinct was kicking in. Just as I feared I may bolt or flare my lyrium and kill the man holding our chains, I felt a hand gently slip into my own. My markings sparked a moment till I realised it was Refin. She looked to me with her soft blue eyes and smiled weakly. What I found strange was that this wasn't her pretending, she was genuinely trying to comfort me. 

After what seemed a lifetime of walking, we were taken inside a large room that resembled some mockery of a throne room. At one end a large gilt chair stood on a dais, and off to its right side was a pile of silk cushions, shrouded with a translucent pink veil. In the giant sculpted fireplace, a fire raged contently spreading its warmth around the room. Chills still shook me. Sat on the chair was a man in his thirties; dark hair oiled back and dressed in rich robes of purple. His staff leaned against the arm of his chair, not menacingly but obviously within reach. We were knelt before him. 

_'Magister, these are the two you requested I purchase for you.'_

_'Ah, good. Leave me with them, Bascil. I wish to inspect them alone.'_

The man bowed low and retreated from the room, shutting the doors behind him. Grey eyes considered us both a moment. 

_'You speak Tevene or so I've heard.'_ He addressed me. 

_'Yes, but my wife does not.'_

'Then I will speak common for her sake.' He switched with ease and gave a smirk when Refin looked up, the use of her own language suddenly surprising her. 'It has taken me a long time, but I finally have what I've been missing. It pleases me that at last the quest is complete. I will admit I am curious though. Do you know of me?' 

'I know you are a Magister who has purchased our freedom.' I frowned as a smirk spread across his face. 

'No, I'm sorry let me rephrase that.' He cleared his throat and resumed his smug attitude. 'Do you remember me, Fenris?' 

'That is not my name.' I retorted sharply. 

It only served to please him more. 

'Yes it is.' The Magister stood and looked down on us both, savouring the moment in the sick dramatic fashion that most of them practice. 'I know so because it was my father who gave it to you.' 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

 ** **1) _Letharais._ = Roughly translates to "f**king". (Non-canon).****

 **

**2) _Vallaslin._ = The markings Dalish tattoo onto their faces, literally it means "Blood Writing".**

**3) _Futue te ipsum._ = A curse, literally "Go f*ck yourself".**

**4) _Benefaris._ = Doesn't have a canon translation, I've taken it to mean "Good" or "Great".**

**5) _Incaensor._ = Tevene word for a dangerous magical substance. It can also be used in derogatory slang as a word for a magic-using slave.**

**6) _Ma vehnan._ = My heart, used like "My love" or "My darling".**

**


	13. Whispered rumours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> This chapter contains attempted suicide.

Realisation hit me like a bolt of pure magic. I did remember him, though in truth I'd never seen much of him. His name was Kaith, and he was the sole child of Danarius and his wife - who had died giving birth to him. Son of a Magister, Kaith had nearly always been away, living with his mentor and learning magic. We only ever saw one another during his visits home, so there was not a lot to judge his character on. I reckoned we were around the same age, as we'd both been young men when I'd received my markings. What little interaction we'd had was civil. There had been problems, of course, where he would purposely set up trouble and blame me for it; times when I had been lashed for his crimes. But I could not remember him ever being overtly wicked towards me. Perhaps this was a sign of hope. Yet I couldn't help feeling that the apple was never far fallen from the tree.

Kaith seemed to notice something change in my expression. He clapped his hands once. 'Ah you do remember me, splendid! You know, you gave me quite the run around. After you killed father I tried desperately to find you, however you had fled Kirkwall. After four years of nothing I almost gave up hope. But what should I hear over breakfast but that a lyrium-marked elf was caught by slavers, and on Minrathous' doorstep no less! Now you are my family's once more, as you should be.' He paused a moment whilst he returned to his mock-throne. 'I want you to know I bear you no ill will. My father was an ass, let us be honest about it. But I have learnt from my father's example, and know that you catch more bees with honey than vinegar - as they say down south. I hope you both will be very happy in my service.'

Refin looked to me a moment, but said nothing. She hung her head, guarding her expression that I did not doubt was twitching with rage. Kaith's words seemed every bit genuine and honest. He sounded sincere and as if he was truly not the same man as his father had been. But I knew how Magisters worked, in my heart of hearts I could not believe he wanted the best for us. If he truly did then he would have bought us our freedom rather than keeping us.

'Now I want to hear all about your new life, Fenris.' I narrowed my eyes at the name but said nothing. 'Last I heard you were quite cosy with the Champion of Kirkwall. What happened?'

'Hawke and I had some disagreements after Kirkwall fell. We decided it would be better to go our separate ways.' I tried my best to not choke up, even thinking of such a thing made my chest ache. 'I moved around and eventually found Melaris.' I looked to Refin a moment and she caught my gaze. She knew now this was her name, showing her understanding with a soft smile. 'We were married last autumn in Cumberland.'

Gaining Refin's permission with a quick look, I placed one arm around the small of her back and rested my other hand atop the curve of her stomach. We posed for a moment, giving one another the look of true love. In her I saw only Hawke's amber eyes and trademark smirk, and no doubt she imagined Alistair gazing sweetly at her. Beneath my palm I felt the child move, a small hand or foot pressing up against my palm. I had never felt an unborn move before, and it caught me off-guard. Refin reined in a laugh.

'And now you have an elfling on the way, how beautiful.' The mage gave a tender smile to us both. 'When is the little one due?'

'T-two months.' her voice shook and was little more than a whisper in the echoing room. Quickly she tagged on. 'Master.'

'A woman of good manners. I see why you like her, Fenris.' I thought I saw Kaith's smile turn up a little more at one end, then slip back into place. 'Well I want you to both feel at home here. In my home you are my servants, not my slaves. I have prepared a room for you both, a bath and fresh clothes. I also had Bascil purchase your bags, they will be in your room, though I'm afraid I've had to confiscate your weapons. You understand.'

I didn't need my blade to tear his chest open. But for a moment I considered our situation. If Kaith was truly honest in his intentions, then we would possibly be able to ask for favours in exchange for work. Magisters kept extensive libraries, so I was almost certain if Refin's answer for the Calling's reversal was anywhere she could find it there. As for finding Garrett, surely he would have heard about my arrival in Minrathous if Kaith had; the city must've been abuzz with talk of Kaith buying back his father's favourite slave. If we could hold out we could both get what we needed. The whole plan hinged on the fact we couldn't be certain how kind Kaith truly was. For now, with Refin and her child protected by my lies, it seemed worth the risk. We would have a little less than two months to find what we came for and get out of Tevinter.

###### 

Sometime later, our new Master released us to have the afternoon to ourselves; finding our way around his colossal home and preparing ourselves for our duties. We were informed that I was to play bodyguard for Kaith. He had knowledge of my abilities from journals kept by his father, and as such knew the power in having me close by. Refin - Melaris as she was known to him - was to do almost nothing. We discovered the curtained area in his receiving room was new and to be hers, where she would sit like a prized cat and await the birth of her child. 

In the solitude of our room, once we were bathed and dressed, we sat warming ourselves by the fire. 

'Really!' She snapped. 'He wants me to just sit there and get fat until the baby comes! Give me something to do! If I'm going to have to play servants till we get out of here, at least let me serve! I'm going to go insane listening to nothing but Tevene all day. I can't even pick up gossip because I have no idea what the damned fools are saying!' 

'Then leave that to me.' I insisted, waving my hands in a calming motion. 'I will be at his side whenever he is to receive someone or attend events outside the manor. Just sit tight and keep your head down.' 

'Do I honestly look the sort to do that?' 

She was correct. Without her mask of feigned fragility she did not look the sort to play the elven pet. 'Alright, try to cope for a week. Afterwards I will ask Kaith to allow you access to his library, then you can hunt down a cure for the Calling.' 

'You think he'll let us?' 

'He might.' I sighed and rubbed my temples. 'This... is confusing me. Though we are still considered _his_ , he is nowhere near as cruel as Danarius was. Still, I can't shake the bad feeling I'm getting.' 

She shivered and pulled her shawl closer round herself. 'You and me both. I suppose I can try if it will make things easier, but I'm hating every second of this and the sooner I can put a dagger in his throat the better.' 

I gave a quick nod in agreement. 'Thank you. I do not relish the idea of being a slave again either. But if we can make this work to our advantage, then perhaps the Maker has given us a chance.' 

'Leli does say "He works in mysterious ways".' The rogue sighed. 'Maybe I can do something in the meantime. If I show I have bardic talents, he may let me at least play for him.' 

'Good. The more useful we make ourselves, the less likely he is to dispose of us.' 

'So do I still call you Leto?' Her question was tentative, like she was edging around broken glass with bare feet. 'I'm just not sure how the whole slave thing works. If our "Master" names you Fenris, do I have to call you it too?' 

'No, you can call me as you like. But I must answer no matter what he calls me.' 

She looked to me sadly and nodded slowly. 'Then I'll continue to call you Leto.' 

'Thank you.' 

###### 

The first week was nought but standing around with my sword and looking intimidating, as Varric would have called it "Just being plain old Broody". I was given new armour to wear and was glad to note it was similar to my attire in Kirkwall. It seemed Kaith found it better to have only small areas of my markings show, though this was likely done so no one could view the entire canvas. Inwardly I was dreading the next social event Kaith was planning; one where he would no doubt reveal almost the entirety of my lyrium and have Refin sit on a dais for all to watch. A worry did occur to me. Would he make a spectacle of her child's birth if it were to arrive whilst we were still here? I could not allow that. We would work quickly and get out as soon as possible. 

Refin was having a worse time than I was, which I did not find strange considering she was a she-elf and a stubborn Grey Warden. I kept an eye on her when I could, which was mostly in Kaith's throne room or in our own room. But there were times Kaith requested her presence alone. Whenever she returned she looked irritated and bored. She informed me that he would sit her on her cushions and just feed her fruit, enquiring after the child and feeling her stomach. 

'Sometimes I wish the child really is yours.' She grumbled after the second week. 'Then it could faze its little hand through my skin and rip his _letharais_ heart out.' 

I chuckled and set about preparing her a bath. 'I'm just content knowing you are safe.' 

'I can still feel his hands on my stomach.' She shivered. 'I hate when he does that.' 

'I'm sorry.' I looked to her but she waved the expression away. 

'You're not the creep, and it's not like he's doing anything overly weird.' She sighed. 'He doesn't go under my clothes and he just keeps trying to feel or hear the baby move. Still, it's just... I only want people I like doing that.' 

Gently I nodded and poured another bucket of hot water in before taking hold of a cold one. 'Has he made any mention of the library? I did ask.' 

'Sort of. He said I could use it whenever he's there, which limits my freedom but allows me to try and search a little at least.' 

'That's what Magisters do. They take your freedom and toy with it, making you think you're free or here by choice when in fact you are nothing but theirs.' After checking the temperature I moved away from the tub. 'If you were born a slave then you would think this a gift, that you were being favoured in some way. Other slaves would hate you for it.' 

'Well they can shove their envy where the sun don't shine.' As I turned to sit backwards on the bed, facing away from her, Refin began undressing and climbing into her bath. 'Oh that feels nice... Thank you Leto.' 

'You're most welcome.' 

'Do you know he's offered me a new position once the baby arrives?' 

'I'm hoping you will say "Bard to the Magister".' 

'Not even close.' She groaned and dislodged a little water; a gentle lapping noise as it swayed. 'He says once "Vitus" is born, I will become his mistress.' 

Fury gripped me, lyrium glowed. 'He said WHAT?!' 

'Calm down, Leto.' No doubt she rolled her eyes. 'We will be out of here long before my child is born. I'm more miffed he's thought to name the baby. Vitus... My child is _not_ called Vitus.' 

Though I dispersed the energy in my markings I was still raging. I knew we couldn't trust Kaith. He was just like every other Magister, taking whatever he wanted and not giving a damn about who he hurt because of it. Had I truly been Refin's husband I would march into his room and kill him then and there. But I was not, and the elf said she was fine with this because it would never come to pass; his words were just words to her. Still it was now ever more pressing we find her cure and get out. I could always come back on my own to look for Hawke once I got her safely back to Ferelden. 

When she was sufficiently cleaned, she got out the tub and dressed herself into the spares we were using as nightclothes. The first two or three days I had slept on the floor by the fire, allowing her the whole bed. But she said she couldn't sleep, feeling guilty that I had only stone to lay on. So we agreed we would share the bed on the condition we both faced away from each other and tried to remain on our own side of the bed. It wasn't that I didn't trust the Warden, it was that I felt I should only share my bed with Hawke. I lay some nights waiting and hoping that any moment the bed would dip as he crawled across it. That I would feel his warm arms encircle me and his kiss on the arch of my neck. 

Refin was not the best bedfellow. She was constantly plagued with nightmares about the Blight, worsened by her Calling. Sometimes she would wake and sit up for an hour, rubbing her stomach and complaining that the child would not keep still. I was not a healer nor the child's father, so there was little I could do to soothe them save telling her stories of my life in Kirkwall and the Hinterlands. Occasionally it worked and she would nestle down to sleep again, other times it didn't. 

That night I was half-awake, thoughts muddled and blurred as I daydreamed of the day Hawke would burst into Kaith's receiving room and demand that he release us. It had been a particularly long day, Refin had fallen asleep before I even approached the bed. She muttered gently in her sleep and once or twice spoke an actual word. Figuring it was only a matter of time till she woke me, I was trying not to sleep. But Hawke was calling me, and I so desperately wanted to be with him. I prickled as two arms came about me, sliding under my own; hands pressed into my chest. A weight lay gently against my back, head resting on the back of my shoulder. At first I thought my prayers had been answered then realised the person was too small to be Hawke. I worried it was Kaith or another of the mage's friends come to take advantage of us but I hadn't heard the door open. I was fairly certain of that. Had they lain in wait in the cupboard or under the bed? 

There was a soft groan of contentment. 'Alistair.' 

Then all noise stopped. Refin was no longer mumbling in her sleep, her sharp breathing soothed and she lay still. The temptation to remove her was paramount. Lyrium kept threatening to glow and I desperately tried to rein it in; the glow would awaken her and I really did not want to accidentally kill her because of my flight response. As it calmed I realised that she was not looking for me. "Alistair" she had said. She believed I was the Fereldan King. Careful not to wake her, I peeked over my shoulder and saw she was still asleep but smiling. I sighed and closed my eyes. This was the first night since we had been enslaved that she had slept well. Despite my dislike of the situation, I hadn't the heart to move her. 

When I awoke the next morning she was already up and dressed, sitting by the fire and warming her hands. Head still muddled from sleep, I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. 

'I'm sorry.' She said, noting I was up now. 'Last night I- Well I woke up this morning and I was... cuddling you. I broke our agreement. I'm sorry.' 

'You were having a nightmare.' I reasoned, coming to sit beside her. 'I was awake at the time, knowing you'd wake me sooner or later, and then you hugged me. You called me "Alistair" and the nightmares seemed to leave you. I didn't want to wake you.' 

'I-I see.' She sighed and began plaiting her hair; she did this so Kaith couldn't run his fingers through it. 'Thank you and I really am sorry, it must have been uncomfortable for you.' 

'I won't lie, it was not what I wanted.' I held her gaze for a moment, allowing her to see the seriousness in my expression. 'But if it allows you to rest, then I will not refuse you. You need sleep for the child. The nightmares are getting stronger the more you ignore the Calling - however fake it may be.' 

She seemed stuck for words, so she simply said, 'Thank you.' 

That hour before serving was a quiet one for us both. Not quite sure what to say to one another, we ate our meagre breakfast in silence. As we prepared to leave, she stopped and looked at me. 

'If you want to cuddle me sometimes and call me "Hawke", I'm ok with that.' 

I smiled and rested a hand on her shoulder. 'Thank you. Should the desire ever arise, I will let you know.' 

###### 

Sundown was often the time Kaith liked to dismiss me and take to fawning over Refin. Since he had no wife she was the subject of all his affections, and though at the moment he seemed to be behaving himself, I worried that one day the mage would cross the line. From my place beside his throne I watched the sun dip over the rooftops of the Imperium. Kaith was busy chattering to some lower Lord about acquiring a book on Fade spirits. Once the book was purchased, the other mage left and Kaith turned his attention to us. 

'Melaris, my dearest one.' She dutifully sat on her cushions and looked to him, as she did whenever he spoke to her. 'Could you do me the honour of putting this book with its brethren in the library? You know the place I'm sure. I need to speak to Fenris.' 

'Of course, Master.' She gracefully stood and took the book from him with a bowed head. As she stood straight she caught my eyes for a moment, her expression reading: "What's going on?". I shot her a look to show my own confusion, and with that she left the room. 

'Fenris,' he turned to me, 'I received a letter this morning. It mentioned the Champion and thought it may interest you.' 

'That apostate does not concern me, Master.' I growled low, using my hatred for Kaith as a substitute for Hawke. It worked well to mask my genuine interest, that half a skip of my heart and the lightening of hope growing in my chest. 

'You were lovers once.' Kaith continued. 'I thought perhaps you would want to know.' 

'I do not, Master.' 

'Oh, pity.' He teased and then gave shrug. 'Well I suppose this will please you then. I was just going to tell you he was helping the Inquisition, but there was an accident involving the Fade and I'm afraid he perished during it.' 

The world went black around the edges as my hearing numbed. All I could feel was my heart hammering inside my chest and the icy feeling spreading through my limbs to my torso. _Hawke is dead._ It couldn't be true, it had to be Kaith fooling with me and trying to get a rise from me. He was trying to see if I loved Hawke still, and use it against whom he thought was my wife. Quickly I thought to mask my pain, but the damage was already done. Kaith's mouth quirked seeing the distress in my eyes. 

'You lied to me, Fenris. You do love the Champion even now.' 

'I-' Swallowing was difficult, and my eyes were stinging with held-back tears. 'I will admit, that is not what I wanted to hear, Master. I dislike the man, but did not want him dead.' 

'It must be so hard to hate someone you once loved.' He stood now, his robes billowing around him in a scarlet fanfare. 'Hate and love are two sides of a coin, and sometimes we get them confused.' 

I was not listening to his drivel. I had heard it a million times from the mouth of Danarius and other Magisters like him. It was lies and twisting of words to confuse slaves. "Master hurts me because he loves me." It was nothing but lies and abuse. 

'I knew you still desire him.' Kaith pressed on, nearing his colossal fireplace. His voice echoed across the distance between us. 'Even when you gaze so lovingly at Melaris, your heart is still held by the Champion. But now he is dead. Do you have any regrets, Fenris?' 

'None, Master.' I scowled. 'It is true I once loved Hawke, but no longer. Melaris is my wife and-' 

'You married her to mask the pain.' He smirked, manipulating my words. 

'No, I love her.' 

'Poor flower. Her love doesn't love her in return.' He tutted under his breath and looked to me. 'I can help you, Fenris. Now the Champion is dead there is no way you could ever rekindle your romance. But I can remove your memories of him, make it so it's like you never met. Then your heart can belong to Melaris and her alone.' 

'Firstly, Master,' I retorted, 'I love my wife and would never leave her for Hawke.' 

'And secondly?' 

'You know my history with mages, both your father and Hawke. What makes you think I would allow you to tamper with my memories?' 

'I see your point,' he motioned a pardon with his hands, 'I apologise. I had merely hoped that by now I had earned your trust.' 

'Melaris is the only one I trust now.' It was true, with Hawke gone the only person left in this world I trusted was the she-elf. The gravity of that sank in a moment and I felt my breathing shudder. 

'Should you change your mind, Fenris. Know I am here.' He bowed low. 'I may be a Magister and your Master, but I hope one day you may call me a friend. You may retire now, if you so wish. Please call in on Melaris on your way, ask her to join me here.' 

It was my turn to bow; a short bend of my neck, nothing more. 

###### 

It was in the quiet solitude of our room I allowed myself to cry. Once the door clicked shut, I felt everything leave me as I crumpled to the floor. Tears and curses, sobs and moans of anguish. Nothing could bring me any release. The man who meant everything to me, the one who had built me up from the ground when I had nothing, was gone... Some part of me refused this. He couldn't be dead, not after everything he'd faced. The Blight, the Deep Roads, the Arishok and the mad leaders of Kirkwall... Nothing could stop Hawke. 

How was I supposed to go on without him? I knew in the long run I could hunt slavers, try to make something of my life and die in battle. But the idea of lying there night after night, knowing I would never hear his voice again, never see his smile... 

I wept till my eyes ran out of tears, then curled into a ball on my side and continued to make soft wailing noises. In truth I must have seemed pathetic. A great warrior reduced to a sobbing maiden, but love does such things to people. It was there on the floor that the idea came to me. I will admit I was not rational at the time. But at that point I had no feelings left or faith left. There was but a single path in my mind, and it lead to him. Kaith had taken our weapons, but he did not take my imagination. I gazed at my wrist, the beautiful band of red. My love of Hawke would take me to him. Slowly I unwound the strip of cloth, feeling the sting in my eyes and chest once more. Then I wrapped it round my neck, as many times as I could, and tied it tightly. A noise of protest came from my throat, my body trying desperately to override what I'd done. I kept my hands locked tight in front of me, refusing to let them scrabble at the silk. The world began to fade at the edges, my hearing like someone clamped their hands over my ears. 

_Garrett..._ _Amatus, I'm on my way. Please just wait for me..._

I didn't care about the Maker's wrath anymore. Movement dulled in my twitching fingers. Toes curled and froze in place. Slavery hadn't been a good enough excuse to kill myself when I served Danarius, yet the thought of living in a world without Hawke... Blue light flashed and sparked as my body tried one last attempt to save itself. The lyrium did nought without my consent. It dimmed and slowly my eyes began to shut. 

The door shoved into my back, but I had no air to escape me. The door jostled, colliding with me again. 

'Dammit. Hey Leto, you in there?' I could barely make out her voice. 'Leto? Something's blocking the door.' 

I kept silent, wanting her to go away. If she stopped me now I'd never have the chance again. The Warden was not one to be ignored. Using all her might she pushed against the door, moving it and me out of the way. For a moment she stood getting her breath back. 

'You know, you can tie that favour of yours round the door handle to let me know you're taking care of yourself.' She laughed. 'No need to barricade the- _FENEDHIS!_ LETO!' 

My protests were wordless and consisted of weakly pushing at her helping hands. She resisted all of them and untied the band about my neck. Air rushed back into my lungs, leaving me coughing and spluttering. The rogue held the favour across her lap, livid fury written across her every feature. 

'What in the name of Andraste's flaming tits do you think you were doing?!' 

'Haw-ke...' I managed to croak out. 

'What about him?' She snapped, blue steel in her eyes. 'Killing yourself isn't going to bring him running. This isn't one of Varric's romance novels, idiot.' 

Tears came again and I brought my hands up to hide my face. She softened only a little, and promptly tied the red scrap back around my right wrist. Pulling me into her arms, she stroked my hair gently and hushed me. I didn't reject the touch. 

'Your throat no doubt hurts,' the elf sighed, 'but tell me what happened. Are you missing Hawke?' 

Slowly I nodded, then shook my head. Colour was returning little-by-little. My hands and feet burned as fresh blood raced through my veins. 'Hawke... Hawke is dead.' 

Her hand paused atop my head, she craned her neck to look me in the eye. 'Is this what Kaith wanted to talk about?' Again I nodded and she grunted in annoyance. 'You can't believe a word he says. The _delltash_ is trying to brainwash us both so we'll comply to his whims. He's trying to make it that slavery doesn't seem so bad for me, and telling you the one reason you have to leave doesn't exist anymore. Leto, please don't listen to him. Hawke is out there with his stupid goofy grin, flinging spells at Maker-knows-what, and will get his ass here as soon as he hears what's happened; mark my words. Please don't try to kill yourself, because I'll have to clean up his body too when he offs himself to be with you.' 

I let her hold me for a while, weak as a child. She comforted me when I sobbed anew and put me to bed, singing an old Dalish lullaby. As I drifted off to sleep, listening to her sweet words, I couldn't help but realise how foolish I had been. Refin was right, this was simply Kaith trying to get to me and breed doubt in my heart. I would not let the Magister destroy my love for Hawke or tarnish my memories of the mage I loved so dearly. If there was any truth at all in those words, Kaith had given me more knowledge than I had had before. Hawke was helping the Inquisition, which meant he was at their base - Skyhold if I remembered rightly - not Minrathous. As soon as Refin had the cure she needed, we could leave and head for Ferelden. 

A smile grew on my lips. 

_I will be with you soon,_ Amatus. 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Letharais._ = Roughly translates to "f**king". (Non-canon).**

**2) _Fenedhis._ = Elven swear, possibly means "cr*p".**

**3) _Delltash_ = An elven curse, unknown meaning but is used as an insult.**

**4) _Amatus._ = Tevene word used for one's lover, literally means "Beloved" or "Darling".**


	14. Illumination

Our trips to the library became more frequent as the birth of Refin's child neared. We had but a month left and she was no nearer to finding the cure to the Calling. She found mentions of it in passing, but never any instruction as to how it was done. She read of great heroes who had overcome their Calling, some who had ignored it entirely and died only when their hair was a wizened grey. Days at a time, hour after hour she poured over countless tomes and scrolls, but still nothing. 

Whenever we were there Kaith was too, as he rarely let Refin out of his sight now. She explained away her research with simple child-like curiosity about the Wardens; occasionally blending her reading with fables of the Wardens or Darkspawn so as to throw him off her scent. The Magister sometimes would insist on reading aloud to her, pacing back and forth the room as we sat and listened. To him we were but slaves, enthralled by our Master's voice; in truth we were hungry for any knowledge the tome might spill. His voice was inconsequential to us. 

The moments he did not feel like displaying his literacy prowess, the mage would sit and peruse his own studies. I never got more than a glance at the pages, but saw Tevene lettering and more than a few diagrams. One I saw quite clearly was a cross-section of a man's torso and arms; shaded skin allowed the brilliance of the parchment to shine through in crisp lines. It took a moment to realise that it was my markings drawn on the page. The notebook itself written in Danarius' hand. As that comprehension struck me, I found myself suddenly wanting it for myself. To read Danarius' notes would allow me to understand my body better than I could ever figure out on my own. The markings had been worrying me these passing years. Though they still worked as they should I couldn't help but wonder if they always would. I had seen lyrium drive Templars and mages mad, knew of the sickness it caused the dwarves who handled it every day. What would having it etched into my skin do to me in the long run? Did it need maintaining? I couldn't recall Danarius ever mentioning such a thing, and in the five years I had served him - that I could remember - he had never taken me under the knife again to correct them or enhance them in any way. 

Kaith tucked the book back into its place and I made sure to note its location. When the time came for Refin and I to flee, I would collect the notes. If anyone could make sense of the magic mentioned in the pages Hawke could. 

###### 

The evening fell and once again Kaith was listening to a petition from some _Soporati_ man. The lowly man was asking permission of the Magister to marry a mage of _Laetan_ class. Since her father was dead and no man accountable for her, it was deemed the Magister of her district owned her. The woman had been born a _Soporati_ but was a late-bloomer into her magic, or so the suitor said. They were teenage sweethearts, but when her magic arrived at age fourteen her family had been elevated to _Laetan_ , thus making their relationship frowned upon by others. 

This was, in Tevene culture, a difficult decision to make. To allow the match would raise the man to his wife's status of _Laetan_. However it would likely anger her remaining family and other _Laetans_ who feel the man is rising unjustly into power. It would also set a precedent that may lead to multiple _Soporati_ marrying kind-hearted _Laetans_ simply to avoid poverty. Whether this was Kaith's reasoning or not, he rebuffed the man's proposal. He was sent weeping from the room, carried out by a guard on each arm. From behind the veil on her perch, Refin frowned deeply. The Magister did not see the she-elf raise the back of her fist, middle-finger extended in his direction. 

There were a few more people to visit Kaith after his audience with the _Soporati_ was over. Most were simply social calls from other _Altus_ ; more than one to take a peek at Refin and I when they thought Kaith wasn't looking. Though we had been in his service a month, Kaith had yet to formally present us. It made me evermore worried he planned something for the birth or to display the child and I once it arrived. _What will he do when the child arrives and looks nothing like me? As Alistair is the father, it won't even look elven..._ I shook my head. There was no need to worry about that. We would escape from Kaith before the child took its first breath. I had promised Refin that. 

Socialising out of the way, Kaith gave a sigh of relief when the last mage left. He turned to inspect us both and nodded to himself, seeming to mull something over. 

'Fenris, is has been - what - sixteen years since my father crafted those markings?' 

'Eighteen, Master.' I hissed low. If he heard the anger there he ignored it. 

'Right, right.' He straightened his sleeves and with his gaze followed the trail of lyrium from my chin to where it sank beneath my chest armour. 'I was just wondering how you're feeling. Are they still as operational? Do you feel nausea or headaches when using them?' 

'They work as they did the day I first bore them.' I twisted my gauntlet before my face, looking to my exposed palm and tracing the lines there. 

'And they still hurt when magic is exposed to them?' 

'Yes.' I was not telling him I'd become accustomed to Hawke's. Personally I would rather have no magic near me at all, if it were not the Champion's. Kaith seemed the sort to want to try and build up my magical immunity. 

'I see.' He made a mental note. 'I was also wondering if they needed maintenance of any sort. Did you get the Champion or one of his mages to help in Kirkwall?' 

'No, the markings never caused me any difficulty and I used potions for healing when injured.' 

Kaith made a positive noise and then sank back into his throne. 'That's good to know.' 

'May I speak, Master?' Refin's gentle voice came from beneath her shaded canopy. 

'Of course, _Amatus_.' The Magister crooned back. The frown I had was all too real. 

'With you speaking of healing, I had a thought.' She continued. 'Our child is due soon, and I would feel more comfortable with my own healer. He cared for me during the beginning of my pregnancy, and I would like him to be the one who delivers for me.' 

'If it will make the situation more suitable to your needs, I will do anything.' He gave a small bow in her direction, not getting up from his seat. Her shadow bobbed back. 'Give me his name and where you knew him last. My men will find him.' 

'His name is Siegfried, Master.' 

###### 

It took Kaith's men three weeks to recover the healer Siegfried. Last Refin had heard of him, he dwelt in Ferelden's western forests but it was found he had moved on. By the time they caught him, he was hiding with friends in Val Royeaux. If this were my old life of slavery I would've asked to accompany the men, to prove my worth to my Master. But this was Kaith and I was no longer Fenris. I did not question it when he made no mention of my leaving, I was much more content to be by Refin's side and protect her from the Magister. 

Those three weeks were like living in the Fade. Both Refin and I grew more restless as each day passed. We were living on time we didn't have. Her stomach was now heavily swollen and she found it difficult to walk long distances. She'd taken to spending most of her time sleeping or crying about our predicament. Though there were hormones to blame, it was more than a little frightening seeing the Warden switch between a sleepy docile state, to lividly furious and threatening to castrate the Fereldan King, only to wash out into a ball of angry tears curled under her sheets. I prayed to the Maker I would not have to be in the room when she finally had the child. I also thanked him that neither I nor Hawke was a woman. 

It was late one evening when Siegfried was sent to our door. 

The Warden Commander lay sleeping as I rested in the chair by the fire, reading over the ridiculous book I'd found still tucked in my pack. Though it was nothing but baseless smut, it helped a little to distract from the nagging thoughts that Hawke may in fact be dead as Kaith had said. Crowe and Renfis were trapped by their conventions and beliefs, but they were at least trapped in the Circle Keep together. Turning the page my eyes widened a little. Isabela had been quite descriptive with Crowe's state of undress, and though Hawke most certainly did not have a mark of the Circle tattooed on his thigh, I couldn't help but see the glorious mage laying before me.

  


"We're finally safe, Leto. We have a home now." 

"All thanks to you." Gently I kissed him. He returned it, though soon it blossomed from sweetness to something more primal. He was growing more impatient and eager. I brought my mouth away to chuckle. "You still need to learn patience, _Amatus_." 

"Screw patience." He pulled me back down and began undoing the ties at my neck. "I've been lying here naked for ten minutes. Off with it!" 

"Apologises." I smirked and kissed him deeper this time as he discarded my shirt to the corner. "I have a weakness for admiring Fereldan art."

  


A knock disturbed me. Quickly I stood and growled with irritation, snatching up my cloak and tying it tightly round my neck. Refin poked her head out from under her mound of blankets, yawning with one a front lock of hair stuck out at an odd angle. Opening the door I slammed it shut again. The elf looked to me with dulled surprise. 

'Who is it?' She glanced over my cloaked form, then looked to the roaring fire. 'You cold?' 

I changed tact rapidly. 'It's a mage.' 

'Is it Siegfried?' She asked, suddenly alert and trying to fight her way out of her cocooned nest. 

'No.' I growled as she came over and opened the door again. 'It's-' 

'You're here!' The she-elf exclaimed and him as tightly as she could. 

He laughed and drew her close. She tiptoed then, moving some of his long hair from his eyes; her hands and gaze examining every inch of him. The mage smiled happily to her, commenting on how good she looked and how big she'd gotten. She punched him playfully and announced she was expecting as if it wasn't already obvious. Such open friendship between them turned my stomach. Finally he gazed past the Warden to look at me. 

'Fenris.' 

'Abomination.' 

Refin sighed and turned so she could look at us both. The mage closed the door and slid the lock into place, ensuring our privacy. 

'Really boys?' She taunted in a higher pitch. 'You're going to fight, now?' 

'Not fight.' I replied, folding my arms beneath my cloak. 'Just ignore.' 

'Fenris, I thought we were past this.' He sighed. 

'And I thought,' I snapped to the elf, 'that you called for your healer Siegfried.' 

'I did.' She pointed a thumb over her shoulder to Anders. 'He is Siegfried.' 

I scowled. 'That is Anders.' 

'No, well, yes.' The rogue sighed and made her way back towards the bed. I moved to help her, which earned me a little smile of thanks. 'Anders is Anders, but he is also Siegfried.' 

'You remember I spoke of my dislike of the Circle.' Anders took a seat by the fire. I tried not to glance at the little red book on the chair's arm, hoping he wouldn't see it if I didn't make it obvious. 'Well because I refused them my name they called me "Anders", a shortened form of "Anderfels" where I had come from. My birth name is Siegfried, which I told to the Warden Commander after she saved my life in Amaranthine. I had nothing to give her except that which I held most precious.' 

'Then why did you call him Anders when we spoke of him?' I asked her. 

'That's how you knew him.' She shrugged. 'Besides no one but me and his probably-dead parents know he's called Siegfried. If I asked Kaith to find Anders then he'd be onto my plan, or in the very least you would give us away with your glowy sparky thing that you do when you get mad.' 

My mouth set in a grim scowl. I discarded the cloak now I no longer needed it. 'You also said you hadn't seen him in two years.' 

'She hasn't.' Anders brushed some road dust from the knees of his green robes. 'We've kept in touch through letters, which stopped about two months ago. I grew worried so I fled to Val Royeaux in case our letters had been intercepted. Turns out the two of you got yourselves captured by slavers.' 

'Enough of this.' The elf heaved herself back to her feet, seeing the glare the mage and I shared. 'I've got work to do. I'll be back in a little while, you two stay here.' 

She fidgeted with her pack, removing a small brown pouch before tucking it out of sight between her breasts and making for the door. Turning at the last moment she fixed us both with a stare of her own. 'Do not kill each other, I need you both alive.' 

With that she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her. Though at first I tried to ignore the mage, curiosity got the better of me. It had been four years since I'd last seen him and I wondered what had changed. He seemed a little older, though I supposed we all did. His hair was now swinging free past his shoulders, a small braid at his right temple. He still had a penchant for green, as both his robes and thick cloak where made of varying shades of it. His pauldrons had changed; still feathered but now black and worn outside of his cloak like a ruff of ebon at his neck. He seemed only a little worse for wear, a new scar just across his left cheek and tired purple marks under both eyes. The mage at least appeared well-groomed, his hair and robes pristine and his beard no more than neatly trimmed stubble. I couldn't help but wonder why life seemed to be being so good to the damned apostate. 

He looked me over as well, eye catching on the red band still at my wrist. 'So you and Hawke-' 

'Happily engaged.' I growled. 

'Oh I see.' He fidgeted with the plait in his hair, brown eyes inquisitive. 'Then might I ask where he is?' 

'With the Inquisition.' The retort was sharp and biting; filled with the irritation and pain I'd endured since the Champion left. Though Anders probably deserved none of it, it was nice to have a punching bag. 'He disappeared in the middle of the night and went to help them solve the Breach; he said he didn't want to put me in danger. I tried following him the next morning but took the wrong path, now I am here.' 

'You never were much of a tracker.' He sniggered and moved to cross his legs over the arm of the chair. 'So do you still glow blue?' 

'Do you?' 

He gave a shrug. His knee knocked the book and sent it to the floor with a soft thump. The mage leaned over and picked it up. 

_Andraste damn him..._

'I see your reading is better than ever. You've read half of this one.' He skimmed through it, glancing through the places I'd bent the corners to mark my page. Hawke would kill me if he saw that. He was a firm believer in bookmarks. 'You have an interesting choice in material. Some of this is... _exquisite_.' 

'It's Refin's.' I snapped. 'She gave it to me stating Isabela left clues within it about Hawke's and my real identities, I was curious as to what she had included.' 

'Naturally.' Anders glanced up from the page and then to my discarded cloak. 'You were simply "curious".' 

'Do not insinuate, mage!' 

'I'm not.' He gave the least honest face I'd ever seen, and then chuckled. 'I am a healer you know, Fenris. It's perfectly natural that when you miss your partner you do certain things to-' 

I was storming across the room as my lyrium flared. I grabbed him up by the feathered collar and growled. 

'So embarrassed by an act of nature and love.' His smirk darkened. 'Is that why Hawke left? Weren't you satisfying him enough, Fenris?' 

'Silence.' 

'If I was his lover he wouldn't be able to walk straight, let alone run off to the Inquisition.' 

'I said "silence", abomination!' 

I reared my arm back, hand caged and ready to plough into his chest. As my fingertips ripped into the cloth at his chest, he fixed my eyes in a determined grin. The blue mist rolled over my vision. I could only see his death. No longer would he torment me, no longer would he be there to taint the world with his magic. The door opened and then closed. 

'Maker that took longer than- WHAT IN ANDRASTE'S NAME?!' Lithe hands began pulling at my poised arm. 'Leto! Stop! What did I say?!' 

I couldn't stop, no matter how much she begged or I tried to reason with myself. This is what I should've done four years ago in Kirkwall. I should've taken the choice from Hawke and slain the abomination at the Chantry ruins. 

The hands came away from me as she scrambled for something else. Red bloomed on the tips of my fingers. Anders gave a gasp of pain, trying to grit his teeth against it. There was a sound of someone quickly exhaling and then something caught in my throat. I gagged and clutched my throat, releasing Anders and trying to cough up whatever I'd breathed in. Due to our distance it seemed Anders too had inhaled the dust. He was rubbing at his eyes and spluttering. As my lyrium faded so did my temper. I found myself slumping to my backside on the stone floor, Anders collapsing not too far from me. The she-elf looked down to us with her hands on her hips. 

'I swear to the Maker, you two are impossible. How Hawke didn't go mad wrangling you both, a blood mage and a pirate is beyond me.' She threw her hands up in the air and went to lock the door tightly. 

'What-what did you do to us?' I coughed, the dust working its way into my system now and making everything rosy around the edges. 

'The same as I did to Kaith while you two were trying to beat the _fenedhis_ out of each other.' Refin pouted and perched herself on the edge of the bed, watching us intently. 'I'd apologise but it was the only thing to hand, and you were both being morons.' 

'What is it?' Anders slurred, his eyes becoming heavy. He was trying to summon healing magic to his hands but it kept spluttering out before he could raise it to his chest. 

' _Hissra Kadan_.' She gave a shrug. Seeing the effects where as she planned them, she moved back to her blankets and nestled herself in once more. 'It won't be as potent since you both breathed it in instead of ingesting it, but it'll keep you both quiet till Kaith's dose is working at full strength.' 

'" _Hissra Kadan_ "?' Trying to move was useless. As I shifted myself to the right I toppled over and ended up just laying on the stone on my side. 'You gave us a Qunari drug?' 

'Yup.' The rogue snuggled herself tighter, arranging the cover and thin pillows. 'Don't worry I weakened the dose so it's not as strong for humans and elves. Otherwise it'd probably kill you.' She gave a small titter. 

'Wha's tha'?' Anders burbled. 

'Illusion w-where the heart lies...' I just about managed to groan out. 

'Precisely.' Refin nodded. 'It makes your enemy completely docile by tricking their mind into believing they are being attended by their lover.' 

'Why do you even have that?' Anders sighed happily, his head coming to lie back on the rug. 

'Because I happen to enjoy living. Have you seen a tiny elf against a full-blooded Qunari in combat?' She shuddered. 'Much easier to blow this in his face and kill him while he's smiling. This pouch I saved for Kaith in such an instance that I would need to incapacitate him. The moment was today, but I've had to waste what little was leftover on you two.' 

'H-How long will it...' 

'A day for Kaith since I slipped it into his wine. Maybe an hour for you two. And before you ask, there's no cure save to ride it out. So I'm going for a nap.' She laid down and within moments was snoring lightly. 

The drug was beginning to work its way further into our blood. Anders seemed to be effected more quickly than I was. He was laying on his back, panting lightly and giving a frustrated noise every so often. By the time my own dose began effecting me properly, he was muttering things to himself. 

'Hawke, I never meant to... Y-You forgive? Mmmm, Hawke...' 

A low growl erupted in my chest but was silenced as a gentle hand curved itself to my cheek, turning my head. He knelt beside me, a soft smile as he always had. No new scars, no battle wounds. Wearing his house-robes and with his hair loose, Garrett was exactly as I remembered him. 

'It's ok, Love.' The Champion hushed and drew my head into his lap, stroking gently at my hair. 'Anders is just imagining me. I'm yours alone.' 

'Garrett, I thought you were-' 

'With the Inquisition?' 

'Dead...' 

He frowned gently, a worried expression. 'No Leto. I'm here with you, and I promise I'll never leave you again.' 

My body shivered as he leant down and kissed me. As the mage became more passionate I sat up to fold him into my arms. He held me tightly; his fingers knotting in my hair and mine in his robe. Garrett moved, breaking our kiss and gently pushed me onto my back. I sighed happily as he claimed my mouth once more. He was there. Garrett was alive and with me. All thoughts of demanding explanations and carefully planned lectures fell from my mind as his hands trailed down my sides. Warmth filled my chest and tears fell. He wiped them away, ghosting his lips over my eyes before making a trail of butterfly kisses back to my mouth. Slowly I let everything slip into a blissful darkness. 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Soporati._ = The lowest rank of the Tevinter populace. The non-magical and those deemed "slaves" are of such a title. Elves (even magical ones) cannot rise above this rank.**

**2) _Laetan._ = The middle rank of Tevinter populace. A _Laetan_ is usually one born into magic, though their family was previously non-magical. The plural is _Laetans_.**

**3) _Altus._ = A rank in the Tevinter Imperium. A mage who is from a long lineage of magical blood.**

**4) _Amatus._ = Tevene word user for one's lover, literally means "Beloved" or "Darling".**

**5) _Fenedhis._ = Elven swear, possibly means "cr*p".**

**6) _Hissra Kadan._ = A Qunari drug used to invoke incapacitation in both a physical and magical sense. It is meant to be ingested for its full strength but can also be inhaled for a less prolonged effect. The main side-effects are hallucinations and feelings of a pleasurable experience, hence its name. Literally: "Illusion where the hearts lies". (Non-canon).**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On names:  
> 
> 
> I chose Siegfried for Anders' true name as means "Victory" and "Peace" in Germanic (two words one usually associates with "Justice"), and from canon mentions the Anderfels seems at least part-based on the culture of Germany. 
> 
> Siegfried, in legends, killed a dragon and bathed in its blood, gaining immense strength; however he was left vulnerable in a leaf-sized area on his back by accident. I thought this appropriate to Anders as he'd taken another creature's strength (in his case the spirit Justice) and applied to it his own, only for it to have flaws which are eventually his undoing. Additionally Siegfried also had to battle and kill the ice queen Brünhild (whose name means "armour" "battle") to win the hand of the warrior maiden Kriemhild ("mask" "battle"). I kind of like to think of this as Anders having to beat Fenris to win Hawke XD 
> 
> In case you were wondering about the names Fenris picked for his and Hawke's sons in Chapter Five, both Aurel and Gaius are Latin (as close as I can get to Tevene). Aurel being short for Aurelius, which means "Golden" and Gaius meaning "To rejoice"; celebrating both their children as gifts from the Maker.


	15. Sacrifice

'Wakey wakey boys!' 

I groaned as light flooded into my eyes. I'd opened them too quickly at her call. Vision blurred then slowly but surely returned to me. I was laying on my front, sprawled on the stone flooring. Refin had not joked about the docility caused by the drug. Even after it had begun wearing off the heaviness I felt was as if my bones had been coated with steel, my mind a wash of intangible colours and half-remembered kisses. _His kisses..._ I shut and reopened my eyes a few times, trying to gain some clarity. Even in my immoveable state I tried desperately to look around. I had hoped to awake with Hawke in my arms and then he would rescue us all from the Magister. What I saw was Anders sitting dazed by the fire whilst Refin slapped him round the face. Garrett was nowhere to be seen. 

'Well how was your dream?' She cooed, finally getting Anders to keep his eyes open. 'Better than Isabela's book, right?' 

'Silence, you damn rogue.' I moaned and clutched my head. Now the numbness of sleep was leaving me, the after-effects of the drug were akin to a rather aggressive migraine. It wasn't helped by the aching in my chest at the revelation my _Amatus_ wasn't truly at my side. 

'Come off it, Leto. You loved it.' She chuckled and set about finishing the remaining bit of packing, pausing ever now and again to straighten her back and rub it. 'Don't worry, you didn't do anything embarrassing except talk in your sleep.' 

'What did we say?' Anders coughed to clear his throat then turned and spat into the fire. 

'Nothing too scandalous.' She kept her back to us, no doubt to hide her grin. Her voice deepened as she continued to speak. '"Oh Maker! Hawke take me to the Fade and back!"' She giggled and returned to her normal tone. 'Then you said something in Anderfel. I have no idea what but the sentiment was _very_ clear.' 

Anders turned scarlet and I couldn't help but smirk. It didn't thrill me knowing he still lusted after my fiancé, but seeing the abomination humiliated was oddly satisfying. I quickly realised she'd changed her voice slightly, trying to angle it more deeply than the first time. 

'"Wait for me, Garrett. Hold on _Amatus_ , I'm nearly..."' 

It was my turn to go red, at which Anders seemed to delight with a wicked grin. Refin stretched her arms and back out before picking up our packs and dumping my own near me. 

'I'd thought the bloody dust would've kept you two quiet.' She smirked. 'Apparently you're both the vocal type. I only tremble to think what's happening in Kaith's bedroom right now.' 

'Better not dwell on it.' I shook my head, trying to shake off the last of my embarrassment and clear that horrifying new image. 'So you have a plan?' 

'Oh now you want to hear my plan?' 

'Tabris.' I warned in a low growl. 

'Fine, fine!' She sighed. 'Once you can both walk, we're getting out of here. We can leave through the servants' entrance, that way there's minimal guards.' 

'You think they'll let us just walk out of the place?' 

'They will if I'm with my healer.' She motioned to Anders. 'Kaith ordered that whatever the healer deems is necessary for me, they must do. So if Siegfried says: "She's going into labour and I'm taking her for a walk to start the process along", then they will let us leave.' 

'They would tell us to walk around the mansion, not outside.' I quipped. 

'Not if Siegfried insists I need fresh air as well.' 

'A courtyard then.' 

'Do you like making things difficult?' She snapped. 

'I'm being realistic.' I retorted. 'These are things the guards will rationalise with you. You're forgetting I was once one of them.' 

'Valid point.' She scowled and began to pace the room. 'Ok then, what's your idea then?' 

'You need a distraction.' Finally able to move I pushed myself into a cross-legged position, resting my wrists on my knees and biting back the nausea. 'The walk is all well and good, and you could both possibly slip out of a courtyard into the capital proper. But you need something to call the guards away.' 

'Fenris, you're not suggesting-' 

I looked to Anders and nodded. 'You will get Refin out of here, I will distract the guards.' 

'But when you're caught-' 

'I will be no worse off than I was with Danarius.' They looked to me with their eyes both filled with concern, something which surprised me about Anders considering how hostile our re-introduction had been. 'I just want you both to promise that - if he still lives - you will contact Garrett and tell him where I am. I'll keep trying to break out, but it might be up to him to rescue me this time.' 

Refin seemed to mull it over a moment, and then her bag strap dropped from her hand. I expected a stern look or a slap, something to demand I rethink my strategy. Instead she embraced me. 

'We can't just leave you. Not after all you've already done for me, Leto.' 

Gently I stroked her hair from her eyes and laid a hand on her stomach. 'I'll be happier knowing the heir of Ferelden wasn't born in a Magister's slave quarters, by the hands of a lyrium-etched warrior and a mage abomination.' 

'Hey!' 

'It's the truth, mage.' 

' _Letharais_ hormones...' She cursed as she began to cry. 

I wiped her tears and held her close, the only person I had ever held save my Champion. 'You will get back to Ferelden. You will be free and in Alistair's arms by the time the child arrives. I promised you this, Warden Commander. Let me keep my promise.' 

'Hawke is going to kill me.' She sobbed. 

'I think he'll understand. After all, he ran into danger to keep me safe.' 

'The lot of us are fools.' She sniffed and wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. 'Alistair and I, you and Hawke, Lavellan and Cullen. We need to stop trying to save each other when we're already safe beside our loved one. But how can you protect someone who wants to protect?' 

'It's your nature as heroes.' Anders smiled to her and rested a tender hand upon her shoulder. He looked to me, a kindness in his expression I'd never seen. 'It is what draws and holds you together. What makes your love unbreakable, and what will make your names go down in legend.' 

'That's sweet, Siegfried.' She rubbed away the last of her tears and returned his smile. 'But I'm still not going to sleep with you.' 

'Drat.' He laughed. 'I don't suppose you have a small pinch of that dust left then?' 

###### 

The plan was relatively simple. The best ones usually are. Refin was to act as if she was getting her contractions, to which Anders would begin to walk her about the manor - thus allowing the guards to take note of her state. After an hour he was to take her outside to the outer gardens, a place supposedly defended by high walls. The Warden Commander, however, had previously noted a large ivy trellis up the southern wall. It would mean a drop to the other side but if Anders went first to catch her and cast a barrier over her, she was covered in case of injury. I did not doubt her skill and finesse as a rogue. What I doubted was a heavily pregnant woman's ability to hike a wall of eight foot, then land gracefully on the other side unaided. Thankfully she agreed and didn't put up a fight. I was to accompany the pair through the manor up until they were about to make for the trellis, at which point I was to make a commotion. I would leave with the guards to ensure they were far enough away, and then the mage and rogue would escape. Hopefully they would be beyond Minrathous by sun-up. All that remained afterwards was for me to bear the brunt of Kaith's anger. 

Dealing with a vengeful Magister I could do, after all I had done so many times before. Had we been in Kirkwall I could have simply killed Kaith and his guards and then fled myself, but this was a different story. Minrathous was a hive of mage activity, filled with blood magic and Magisters. If I were to start a massacre then those living around the manor would hear the fight and come to defend their ally. There was also the chance of innocent slaves getting mixed up in the fight as they defended their Master or were slain by his hand for their life-force. To wait for Hawke was the better option. For Refin and the child who slumbered within her I would take a dark cell, an iron collar and the whip. I did not fear death, for Kaith couldn't kill me. He didn't understand all of his father's notes; such was clear from his frequent questions, which had grown more intense as the birth neared. If he didn't know how the markings worked, then he couldn't successfully remove them or replicate them, therefore my death would only serve to destroy that which he sought to keep. 

"Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf." 

With Hawke in my heart I would have hope, a flame against the despair and pain, something I could never have dreamed of the last time I bore such a chain. As Kaith tortured me I would think only of my _Amatus_ , of our love and how each punishment was only strengthening my resolve to be with him again. To think that Hawke may already be dead, to think that my only reason to live was gone was not an option. For him I would wait an eternity in this Fade. 

###### 

The initial walk was uncomfortable. Refin was a good actress and Anders had spent more than enough time as a healer to know the correct lines and the right amount of worry to show on his face. I... I had never been faced with such a situation. Whilst it is true that the form of a person - male or female - means nothing to me, I had fallen in love with a man and as far as I knew wanted no other person before or after him. Coupled with the fact I myself am a man, the concept of labour was not one I had planned to acquaint myself with. I had no idea how to act convincingly as a soon-to-be father. The only experience I supposed I had was to worry over Hawke whenever he wounded himself in battle - something that happened more frequently than I liked. So I paced beside them, holding Refin's hand and speaking calmly as she switched quickly between whispered words of happiness and love, and screaming how she would murder me the second the baby was out of her. Anders did nothing to quieten her or glare at me, so I assumed all was going convincingly. 

When little over an hour had passed, Refin declared she was too warm and Anders agreed she could go outside for a little while. We escorted her towards the garden doors, only to find them blocked by two heavily-dressed guardsmen. It was nothing we hadn't accounted for. After all that's why I was there. 

_'Halt! Where are you going, slaves?'_

Refin clung to her stomach with her free-arm and gave them both a twitching glare. 'Listen here, I am not in the mood to deal with you today. My baby is on the way, and I am too hot and need to go into the garden to cool down.' 

For a moment I panicked that the guards might strike her for her cheek, or send for more of their men. Anders coughed and placed a hand on Refin's shoulder. The guards' eyes instantly locked on the staff he wore across his back. 

_'I am Siegfried, no doubt His Excellency has informed you of my stay here.'_ Even in Tevene I could hear his voice take on the tone I'd heard a thousand times in Kirkwall. This was his "Mages are holier than thou" persona, the one that made me want to punch through his chest. _'This she-elf is my ward until such a time that her child has been safely delivered. As she has already informed you, she is overheating with the pain and must cool herself before she faints with exhaustion. However if you personally wish to tell Magister Caecina why his slave and her valuable offspring died in childbirth, please, you have my absolute permission.'_

The guards shifted at this, glancing to one another in a silent conversation. Finally they nodded and moved aside. 

_'Very well,'_ the first said gruffly, _'but I will accompany you outside.'_

Anders gave a clinical look of acceptance. _'As you wish it, but do not get in my way.'_

The doors opened and the cool night air was more than welcome. Refin and I had only been allowed outside with Kaith, and those times had been during the day when the sweltering Tevinter sun was overhead. The moon sat high above the rooftops and a cloudless map of the heavens sprawled out around it. It was beautiful but the worst sky for an escape. The pair would have to cling to shadows and avoid all main thoroughfares. I eased myself by remembering that Anders was a seasoned escape-artist and Refin had broken out of Arl Kendells' manor herself, or so she had told me. 

The guard stayed by the door, keeping a close eye on us as we circled the small garden. Refin continued with her curses and panted breathing, Anders walking her with his arm around her waist as I sat and looked as troubled as I could. It was not difficult, the plan was incredibly flimsy and lacked any safety net should we fail. If it went wrong then the three of us would end up in the dungeons; Anders would likely be executed, I would be tortured and Refin killed once she'd given birth, then no doubt Kaith would have the child slain too when it did not possess any of my abilities. _No, I must think positively. We can do this. We_ must _do this..._

The bard increased her complaints whenever Anders gently prodded her in the hip, and after another hour or so he helped her to sit on the floor. 

'Can't...' She wailed. 'Sieg-Siegfried I think...' 

'Let me check.' He knelt before her and gently lifted her skirt, hiding her from the guard with his back. Little did the watchman know beneath it she wore full leather armour and a knife she'd managed to pilfer at dinner. 'Right, okay. You're ready, but I can't have you do this in a garden. We need to get you to a be-' 

'Can't... walk anymore...' The elf groaned and looked to him with tears in her eyes. 

He sighed and rolled up his sleeves. 'Very well. Then I'm going to need you to start pushing, Melaris. Can you do that?' 

She nodded as she screwed her face up in mock-pain. Getting up quickly I went to her side and took hold of her hand. She locked her fingers to appear tight, but in truth I could easily slip my fingers out from hers. After several minutes of her screaming and the guard looking amusingly uncomfortable, Anders cursed. 

'What's wrong?' I looked to him. 

'There's more blood than there should be.' He dipped his hands into the bag he'd hidden by his knees, coating them in the solution he'd made. Though it was made from berries, salt and watered mud, it certainly looked and smelt real in the darkness of the courtyard. Anders held his hands aloft for me to see, the guard catching the sight of glistening. 

'Then heal her! _Venhedis!_ You're a mage aren't you?!' Refin gave a whimpered moan and I looked to her. 

'I can't.' Anders growled in frustration. 'The child's damned lyrium is feeding off my magic. Instead of healing her, I'm just siphoning my magic into the child and making it stronger. Soon she'll be too weak to continue and I'll be too exhausted to help her.' 

It was complete nonsense, we both knew that it is lyrium that feeds magic not the other way around. But a _Soporati_ guard wouldn't know that, and if Refin's drug had worked as well as we planned then Kaith wouldn't be in any fit state to get out of bed, let alone understand such garbled idiocy and come running to the rescue. 

'Master...' Refin croaked. 'Master can...' 

'The Magister?' Anders paused and then nodded. 'She's right. Fenris, get Magister Caecina. If he can heal her whilst I let the lyrium focus on my magic, then we may be able to save them. But you must be quick.' 

Gently I kissed Refin's brow and whispered a word of luck to her for them both. Getting up I looked to the guard with the most convincing torn look I could muster. 'There are complications. We need our master, only his magic can save her. Please...' 

The guard looked from the bloody scene before him to me and narrowed his eyes. He waited a moment as he peered around the garden and made sure of its defences, but finally he growled and turned on his heel. We went together past his colleague, who was instructed "Not to leave and to ensure no one comes in or out". Down through the warren of the manor. Through the corridors of the slave quarters, where I had no doubt played as a child, onwards into the hive of rooms and wings meant for the Magister and his guests only. The guard led me to an area I had never visited before, and it took me a second to realise we were in the bedroom wing. We passed three doors before he stopped outside one bearing the Caecina emblem, embossed on the wood in gold. 

Thrice he knocked. _'Forgive me, Magister. But I have the magic-using slave here. His wife has started to have the child and they need your magic to aid her. The healer fears she might die if you are not swift.'_

There was a growl of irritation from the other-side of the door, followed by the storming sounds of a man's feet. The door opened to reveal Kaith; his robes hastily thrown on and his hair tussled in every direction. From the anger and dazed look in his eye it was clear the drug was still heavily effecting him. 

_'What is it you imbecile?'_ He whispered it low and angry as he could, almost afraid someone might hear him. _'What's this about Melaris?_ ' 

_'She's in labour in the southern courtyard, Your Excellency.'_ He bowed low and remained in half. 

Kaith's eyes flickered from the guard to me and then he peeked into the room behind him. When he faced forward once more he worked quickly to remove the lusty gaze from his face. _'You fool, she's not in labour. She's in here with me and you have interrupted us. So before you go about listening to the mindless words of slaves, you had better use that damned brain the Maker gave you!'_

The guard choked up and merely remained as he was. _'Y-Yes, Magister. But I have-'_

_'You have what, Soporati? Need I remind you whose family is indebted to whose after-'_

_'But she is in labour, Magister. I have seen her with my own eyes, she sits in the garden with her child well on the way.'_

This argument was good. I needed it to drag out as long as I could, so I did nothing to speed it along or hurry Kaith's realisation. Every second they argued was another for Anders and Refin to get over the wall and to freedom. If Refin could melt into the shadows then she could trail Anders' path through the city. No one would be looking for a mage making his way home alone, not until the guards came chasing. 

The Magister seemed to take his time trying to make himself believe what he was hearing. The drug told him the she-elf was laying in his bed, waiting for his return, but his common sense was winning. After all, why would a guard and his _incaensor_ be at his door if she were not in danger? Eventually he gave a hard blink and peered into the room. In case it was a trick, he bid the empty bedroom a sweet goodbye and promised to return as soon as this had been dealt with, then followed as we retraced our steps to the garden. When we arrived the mage had made himself more presentable, but it was for nought. The moon showed nothing in the courtyard save the beauty of the twilight flowers. On the stonework to the rear of the garden was a puddle of the fake blood Anders had made, and in the silver light I could just see a red handprint twinkling on the wood of the trellis. The apostate and the elf were gone. A weight lifted from me. 

_'Where is she then, guardsman?'_ Kaith snapped. _'You believed the word of a slave over your Master! Fenris knew I was wish Melaris, and wished to interrupt us.'_ He wheeled round and caught me by the throat, pushing me backwards and letting my head hit against the stonewall. In truth I could have resisted, I could've snapped his wrist, but I needed to give Refin more time. _Isn't that right, Fenris? You created this little story because you can't bear the thought that I was pleasing your wife.'_

_'I know she loves me.'_ I ground out, choking lightly against his grasp. _'She-She worries you will kill me when the child is born. That's why she c-came to you tonight. She thinks you will sp-spare me if she lets y-you have her.'_

_'There, you see?'_ His smile twisted. _'Well I have news for you, Fenris. Melaris is doing more than enough to try and save you. And believe me when I say it isn't your name she calls.'_ He released his hold on me and then turned to walk back inside. _'Lock him in the cells tonight. I don't want to be disturbed again, not even if the Maker Himself has appeared.'_

Before Kaith was even halfway down the corridor I felt a boot on the back of my knee. It made me fall only to receive another in my stomach. I spluttered, trying to take in air. The guard knelt and grabbed me by one of my ears' points. Though I tried to bite it back I gasped in pain. Hawke would use their sensitivity to soothe me, but there was nothing tender or loving in this hold. 

_'You're going to pay for making me look a fool before His Excellency.'_ The guard snarled. _'Let's see how pretty a knife-ear looks after he's been beaten black and blue!'_

I lay there and took each fist to my ribs, every kick to my head and gut. At some point he must have bust my lip or brow for I tasted blood but was too dazed to do anything about it. Every minute he spent on his vengeance was another for Refin and Anders to steal into the night. When darkness and pain finally beckoned me to sleep I thought only of them as they raced through Minrathous proper. 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Amatus._ = Tevene word user for one's lover, literally means "Beloved" or "Darling".**

**2) _Letharais._ = Roughly translates to "f**king". (Non-canon).**

**3) _Venhedis._ = *a curse word***

**4) _Soporati._ = The lowest rank of the Tevinter populace. The non-magical and those deemed "slaves" are of such a title. Elves (even magical ones) cannot rise above this rank.**

**5) _Incaensor._ = Tevene word for a dangerous magical substance. It can also be used in derogatory slang as a word for a magic-using slave.**


	16. Fenris

_I'm cold._

Beneath my body was the feel of damp stone and from somewhere nearby the wind whistled from under a door. Peering through my one good eye I could see nothing but darkness. The smell was familiar. The moss and stagnant water, scents of decay and rot, greeted me like old friends. There was a pain at my ankle, so I moved my leg a little. The weight there was more than I expected, and the pain bit down worse. The sound of a chain dragged along with my limb. Now there was no doubt why my neck and wrists felt heavy. Twisting my head from side to side, trying to limber it up after being so still for so long, brought about the sensation of a wrought iron band about my throat. _So I was correct, they've bound me again._ Even if I had had the energy to move properly I doubted I could faze through the metal. If Kaith had truly been reading his father's notes, he would've known only lyrium-woven things can truly bind me. I didn't doubt such things held me now. 

At some point between the guard beating me senseless and my current point, Kaith must have discovered Refin's escape. There was no way of knowing how much time had passed for the cell lacked a window and no light came from beyond the door. I lay in the darkness wondering if they had gotten free of the Magister and his guards. No matter how much I desired to know, it was likely I would only ever find out if Kaith came to gloat or punish me. For the first time in my life I wished for him to come into that cell and beat me mercilessly, because if he did so then it meant Anders got her to safety. Never before had I prayed for the apostate to be successful in his escape. In the dank space I lay in it seemed I was doing a lot of firsts, I could only hope that they did not include dying. 

###### 

Some measure of time passed, though whether it was weeks or blinks I cannot say. I kept myself entertained in the only way I could; I slept and tried to dream of better things. Sometimes it was difficult to know whether I was awake or not. The darkness blinded me with or without my eyes open, so I never quite knew whether to believe what I saw or not. On one occasion I saw Merrill sat in the corner, petting a nug and asking me if I knew the way to Par Vollen. Those times I was certain were dreams, but others seemed so vivid I couldn't ascertain their realness. Glimpses of Hawke and Refin laying beside me as they tried to warm me with a smile, sometimes Anders or Kaith came to check on me. Once it was Danarius, though his face became Kaith's as he leaned closer. The dreams of my life in the Hinterlands were the best, and were the ones I tried to force by thinking about them before I fell back into the lull of sleep. Nightmares were often, but even they couldn't deny me the risk of trying again for a pleasant dream. I had nothing in that cell except my hopes. If they died then I would too. 

Kaith would not defeat me. 

Eighteen years before I had slept and ate and lived in a cell much like the one I currently dwelt in. Danarius would keep me locked up until a day or so before public occasions when he would take me out, bathe me and hand me a sword. I learnt to look forward to those days. The events where I would stand in nought but my leggings and a long skirt, lyrium shining and drawing awed remarks from _Soporati_ and _Altus_ alike. Showing me off like that made Danarius happy, and so it had made me happy. I had waved away all rumours of devious magic performed by my master, ignored all comments from foreigners on how he treated us. When I was a slave Danarius had been everything to me, because when he didn't need me I was cast into a dark nothingness once more. So I lived to be useful, I strived to do everything he could ask of me and prove to him I deserved to be kept. Little had I realised he desired only my markings, and that so long as I bore them it didn't matter what I did, I would be kept alive and near him. Perhaps had I known that I would not have wasted so much energy and time in trying to be the best slave. No, that is hindsight talking. Even had I known that I would have chosen to stumble on blindly after my Master's robe-trail. That is what it means to be a slave in the Imperium, this is the life I was saved from on Seheron and again later in Kirkwall. 

This time there was no break in the monotony. No door opened with a greasy mage leering down at me, no bowl of grit pushed through the slot only to be kicked aside as the apprentice entered to add to my scars. There was only the darkness and my dreams. The only certain sign of realness was the ache where my chains rested and the ever growing emptiness of my stomach. 

###### 

The blonde smiled at me from atop her gilt throne, a mewling bundle held in her arms; a soft motion as she beckoned me up onto the dais. She was too blinding to look at properly. Her silks too white, her jewels like orbs of sunshine, and sat on her brow was a crown of gold and amber flame. If it were not for the fact she were an elf, I would have believed Andraste Herself sat before me. 

'Warrior, we commend you and welcome you into our hearts.' I was puzzled but bended my knee and bowed my head as if on instinct as she spoke. Her words were oddly calming. 'You have given my son and I our lives, and so our King would reward you.' 

'I desire nothing, your safety is gift enough.' Glancing up I saw she was smiling to me. No, that smile drifted into her jovial smirk. 

'I think he is too modest, my King.' She looked to her right, at a throne I had not noticed was there before. 

The chair was almost identical to her own, but grander in that its back was taller and bore a twin bird-shaped crest drawn in red paint. The King was practically laying across it; one leg over the arm, another down the front of the seat and his torso leaned up by one elbow on the throne's arm. Unlike the Queen he dressed in a simple blue tunic and trousers with very little ornament about him, save for a golden crown which he wore lopsidedly on his nest of dark hair. 

'Modesty is one of his many finer qualities, my Queen.' The man laughed and looked to me. He gave a wink and I felt my face reddening. 'But he does have so many.' 

'Will you begin to speak of his eyes or his ass first, my Lord?' She giggled. 

'Do not give me such difficult decisions.' The King sighed and folded his arms in mock-irritation. 

My head buzzed a moment trying to take the strange couple in and all their eccentricities. Somehow I felt as if I knew them; the pretty elven Queen and the handsome apostate King. _Wait... How did I know he's an apostate?_ A staff adorned with a silver dragon leaned against the throne. I was near certain that had not been there before I had had that thought. The King scratched his chin for a little while, watching me with a gentle gaze whilst the Queen took to humming gently and rocking her now silent child. 

'I have decided his reward.' He declared, pulling the eyes of both myself and the Queen. 'I shall give him a kiss.' 

'That is a wondrous idea.' The Queen agreed with a smile, then looked to me. 'You shall receive a kiss from the King as your boon, warrior.' 

There was definitely something odd about them, I could not recall any monarchy before them granting such bizarre favours as rewards. And nor could I ever recollect a person so happy another should kiss their partner. Still I supposed it must simply be one of the customs of their realm. To refuse would likely offend them and bring about my execution. A short glance at the King. He was handsome. Such a reward would not be unpleasant. 

And so I rose from my place and approached the King when he motioned me nearer. He didn't bother to correct his posture and simply pulled me onto his knee, gently taking hold of my chin before bringing me close and allowing our lips the briefest of touches. 

'My King,' scolded the Queen - I would've flinched away if the King had not held me in place, 'that was _not_ a kiss. If you are to reward the man, then do so properly.' 

'I am aware, my Queen.' He looked to her from the corner of his eye but did not turn his head. 'I was merely savouring the first taste.' 

Blood rushed to my face. He sought to calm me with a gentle laugh and a thumb caressing up and down the length of my pointed ear. I shivered at the touch and felt myself relax into him. The King caught my mouth once more with his own, deepening it gradually and bringing the taste of wine and those red berries Hawke liked to eat whilst he taught me to read. Something sparked in the back of my mind. I wanted to draw away from the kiss but he held me tenderly in place, and I found myself powerless to resist him. I wanted this as much as he did. When we drew for breath I heard the Queen giggle once more but the King commanded my attention. 

His name left my lips like a song. 

  


Darkness greeted me. A blink and the thrones were gone, I was alone in the emptiness. The stiffness in my limbs was returning, the dryness of my throat and the ever-pressing ache in my stomach. The dream unwound its warm tendrils from my being and left me in the cold reality of my cell once more. I believe I sobbed for a good hour, though it could have been many short bursts with many shorter unremembered dreams in between. At one point I thought I heard Anders' voice beyond the door. Moments later a scream that sounded too close to Refin's. Memories and imaginings became one and the same with my present awakened state. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing except my dreams. 

I let them take me once more. 

###### 

I wondered why they didn't come to punish me. It was true that starvation and dehydration weren't doing wonders for me, but normally there was to be something more than that. Even devoted to the chase of the elf and mage, Kaith would not have tossed away an opportunity to relieve his anger or try and drag some scrap of information from me. In no way did I believe myself important enough to be the centre of his attention, however I had thought even a novice tactician would take advantage of a captive insider, who under torture may reveal information to the thing being sought. Day or years or weeks or moments passed and Kaith did not appear. Only the weakness that spread through me anchored me to this world; my candle kept me burning through the pain. 

###### 

It exploded through me like ice; a cruel and biting force pulsing through the markings and into my flesh. At first I thought my muscles were simply seizing up, finally too worn from sleeping endless nights on stone, but the pain worsened when I tried to move. Things clamped my wrists and ankles tight to the surface beneath me. I lay on something smooth. This was not my cell. I had been moved. Opening my eyes did no good. Dark cloth had been tied over them, even though the jolts of agony made me screw my eyes shut as soon as they dared wince open. All at once the ordeal ended. My body arched into the air and then sagged, exhausted. 

_'Enough. I must prepare the next spell and he seems sufficiently subdued.'_

The bonds, which I then realised were hands, came away from my limbs. Had there been some fight left in me, I would have sprung up and run for the surely unlocked door. As it happened an eternity in the darkness had wasted me, I no longer had the strength nor the will to fight. There was a noise of shuffling as robed figures moved across the stone floor; their steps did not disturb my resting place, so I assumed I was aloft on some altar of sorts. Not that it mattered. The magic still throbbed through my core like a persistent toothache. Whispers permeated the air, sadly nothing I could make out. Then there was a louder voice, one projecting so all gathered could hear. 

_'I must ask... Is this really necessary?'_

The worried voice was met with an irritated growl. _'Your concerns for the slave are not needed, Pavus.'_

_'I must object. What you are doing-'_

_'Is nothing short of what you attempted to do to your own son.'_ The voice was sharper now. The alpha demanding his earnt respect. _'Do not play try to play the hero. It makes you a hypocrite.'_

A sorrow tinted his words. _'I spoke with my son and have realised the error of my ways. It was wrong what I did, how I forced his hand in fleeing. You can learn from my mistake. Don't do this to him.'_

_'He is not my son, he is my slave. Therefore I care nought what happens to him, as long as it is in my best interests.'_ The other snapped. _'Dorian has softened you, and this leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I had hoped I would never live to see a Magister turn on his brethren, especially for something as trivial as questioning tradition.'_

_'It is not tradition to subject another being to blood magic!'_

_'"Magic exists to serve man" so I shall do as I please. If you take issue with my methods, you know where the door is.'_

A pause. 

A disgruntled exhale and then a flurry of movement. Satin beating a sudden breeze, and the sound of a heavy door opening. When it clattered shut then whispers began anew. The Magister demanded silence as the air began to crackle with magic again. Sore muscles began whimpering once more at the nearing power. I bit down on my tongue as the chill roared into a fire. Searing tendrils of flame-incarnate wrapped deeply around my body. They bound me tighter and tighter, till I felt at last they might tear my limbs from me completely. The others in the room began to chant, lending their aid to the Magister and increasing his power. _Blood magic_ ; I thought hazily, _they're doing blood magic to me..._ Only once had I been under such influence before; a prostitute in _The Blooming Rose_ had bewitched us all. She nearly had Hawke kill himself, but at the last moment we were saved by the strength of his will. A strength I was now envious of, and trying desperately to mimic. 

_No matter what he does to me, I will not become a monster. I will remain true. I will remember who I am. I will always be yours, Garrett._

I repeated the mantra over, trying to block out the chanting and the newer pains as the tendrils of fiery blood rose up and began wrapping my neck and lower face. Finally my body could take no more. Despite all my mental protesting, it simply lay limp. The blood flowed up into my mouth and ears, down my nose and under the cloth into my eyes. I was drowning. Nothing could purge my system. I was too weak to cough or spit, too fragile to kick or buck about. No, I lay there and the magic washed over me. Soon sleep began to call. A sweet voice promising to remove the pain. She beckoned me and I answered her call. 

The darkness bloomed red. 

###### 

A door opened not too far off. That is what had awakened me. Slowly I opened one eye and saw I lay in a modest space, a single pallet in a windowless room but the small fireplace burned warmly. Body wrapped in fur I nestled into it a little more. It felt good against my tender skin. 

_'Ah you are awake, good.'_ I looked up from my coverings to behold the speaker. A man in his thirties with dark hair. He wore crimson robes and carried a carved staff upon his back. _'Tell me, how do you feel?'_

_'I admit I am a little sore, Master.'_ I replied, inclining my vision a little lower now. _'Might I ask, do you know what has happened to me?'_

_'You were helping the maids fetch apples from the tree and fell. You really ought to be more careful.'_ He gave a little chuckle and I felt my burden lighten. 

_'I am sorry, Master. I will endeavour to be so.'_

He nodded and moved over towards me. Taking hold of my arms he thoroughly checked me over, noting each injury and nodding to himself. Whenever he deemed a bruise too dark he cast a palm over it. The magic stung but I was grateful for it. Not everyone had the chance to have a Magister's power heal them. Finally he indicated to a pile of clothes on the chair in the corner as he stood. 

_'Nothing left that time will not heal.'_ He declared happily. _'Those are for you, please dress as quickly as possible. I have a gala this evening, and would very much like you to be at my side.'_

_'Of course, Master.'_

Slowly he made his way over to the door, stopping but a moment. He reached into his pocket and came to face me again. He held aloft a piece of fabric, deep red in colour. There was a strange expression on his face, something that spoke of expectation. 

_'One last thing. Tell me, does this mean anything to you?'_

I squinted at the fabric. _'I have never seen it before.'_

_'Answer the question, Fenris. Does it mean anything to you?'_

_'No, Master. It means nothing to me.'_

I had thought Master would have been disappointed with my response, but instead he smiled and turned from me. Stuffing the cloth back into his pocket he laughed. _'Good. Thank you Fenris, that's all I wanted to know.'_

He left me to sit bemused for a while before I noted I should dress. Pulling on the leggings and long skirt I examined my body. Most of the painful marks were indeed gone, but small band marks remained at my wrists and ankles. _Odd_ , I thought, _I don't believe I have heard of such bruises being made by a fall. Still, if that is what Master says I did, then I did._

A shake of my head to right myself as I walked towards the door. It was wrong to doubt my Master, but still I wondered at his question of the red scrap. Perhaps another servant had torn his robes and he required my insight as to whom it had been. _Yes_ , I decided, _that is it._ Finally at peace with myself I left the room. 

###### 

The gala was as all had been before it. Music and dancing, much merriment and wine. I spent the evening following at my Master's heel; his snow-kissed shadow. Magisters and mages alike took to resting their eyes upon us, but I was used to such glances. Many had been envious of Danarius and so it was hardly strange that they continued their ire towards his son. My Master took it in his stride; pleasant smiles, generous when sought for gold or a spell. As I watched him move about the palatial room I couldn't help but feel pride burning in my breast. Here I was, owned by the most powerful and benevolent Magister in all Tevinter whilst the other elves of the room cowered in shadows, the brave ones daring to glare at us over their wine jugs and platters. My chin rose a little as I looked away from them. Thought was not to be wasted on such creatures. I was there for my Master, and had time for him only. When he bid me to shine I did so, smirking as mages and elves ebbed deeper into their envy. 

One Magister did not shrink back. He stood plainly in sight, arms folded as he spent a good hour watching me. Had he been any other mage I would have suspected him of admiring me. I was not unfamiliar to such looks. Though he did not love me in such a way, even Master had admitted I had a beauty beyond most of my kin. But no, this mage was watching me morosely. It was not bitterness he gave me, it was pity. I narrowed my eyes at him, letting him see my offence. 

_'Dear Fenris, what has gotten into you?'_ Master caught the expression from the corner of his eye and turned to me. _'Don't scowl so, it ruins your aesthetic.'_

_'It is Magister Pavus, Master.'_ I replied. _'He looks on me with pity, and I do not like it. I have nothing to be ashamed of.'_

_'Of course you don't.'_ He locked eyes with Pavus himself and then smiled gently. The other Magister scowled and then turned to leave. _'You must forgive him, Fenris; he is not himself. Pavus has recently been shamed by Dorian.'_

_'The Magister's son?'_ I took a jug from a passing elf and filled his cup once more. _'Master, may I ask what he did?'_

He sipped the wine and gently his lips curled. _'It seems the Inquisitor has had influence on the boy. She has persuaded him that his hobby is acceptable as a lifestyle, and so he has confronted his father. Now Dorian publicly dallies with men. Last I heard he was bedding a Qunari! Can you imagine such perversions, Fenris?'_

_'No, Master.'_ He did not need to know my own preferences, that the form did not matter to me, only the mind and the soul within it. But in truth it didn't seem to matter much even to myself. I had never lain with another and, as I foresaw it, I never would. Love was something a slave could not afford and even if I could, I lived to serve my Master. 

Love would simply distract me. 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Soporati._ = The lowest rank of the Tevinter populace. The non-magical and those deemed "slaves" are of such a title. Elves (even magical ones) cannot rise above this rank.**

**2) _Altus._ = A rank in the Tevinter Imperium. A mage who is from a long lineage of magical blood.**


	17. A mage in the night

It was a morning of great celebration. The manor was alive with colour and song as the servants rushed about, and the guards kept a careful eye on every door and dark crevasse. As ever I was in the eye of the storm at our Master's side, and there was nowhere else I would've rather been. That was where I could serve him best, as well as steal a few choice bits of gossip. The event was that the Magister had finally chosen a bride and her father was arriving to collect the dowry before the formal proposal that night. The woman was of a highly sought _Altus_ pedigree, fair of face and mind sharp as a blade. Her name was Victora, and she was perfect for the Master in every way. 

I was happy to see that Master had finally moved on. For the past few weeks he had grumbled about a she-elf, some "Melaris", who had evaded his grasp. Though I had comforted him and assured him that the elf was far beneath him, the Magister seemed besotted with her. He wrote poetry of her beauty, and would fly into a rage when his bard played a song "not how she played it". But with time he had cooled and come to the realisation Melaris was not returning. Now Victora was to be his muse, and I had never seen him more contented. 

_'Fenris.'_

He motioned for me to pour more wine into his glass. Master was laying out under the morning sun on a soft couch, his rich purple robes only adding to the kingly presence. I poured the wine from a crystal jug and watched him a moment. _It would not surprise me if Master is to be chosen for Archon soon._ The thought brought a smile to my face. How wonderful it would be to serve an Archon; to have seen my Master rise in power till he sat upon the Imperial throne. 

_'You know, I have been thinking.'_ Sleepily Master tilted his neck to look at me. _'Victora and I will one day have children.'_

_'I hope you do so, Master.'_ I bowed low. _'And I hope that magic is strong in their blood.'_

He gave but a short nod as thanks for the compliment. _'Well I was wondering. Don't you want that, Fenris?'_

I blinked, taken completely by surprise. Quickly I placed the jug down in case I dropped it. _'I-I had never thought about it, Master. To do so would take my attention away from yourself, and now Lady Victora.'_

_'All men think about taking a wife at some point.'_ The Magister smiled gently and waved away my dismissal. _'You are an elf and my incaensor, but you must surely feel the same as other men? I could assist you, if you like. You find a she-elf who takes your liking and I will come to acquire her. Or, if you prefer, I could find a match for you.'_

_'Master is generous, but I-'_

His gaze narrowed. _'We don't want your talents going to waste now, do we Fenris?'_

The point was made bluntly clear. Master was not asking if I wanted a bride, he was telling me to father children so my lyrium abilities might be passed on. I did not relish the idea, but it was an order. One which I would obey. 

Lowly I bowed once more, keeping myself bent as I spoke. _'Master is most kind. I shall trust in his judgment to find my bride.'_

The Magister laid back into his pillows once more, finding a comfortable position before he closed his eyes. _'Don't worry Fenris. Though it will be a difficult task, I will try to ensure her beauty does not pale in comparison to yours.'_

###### 

By nightfall the preparations where complete, the dowry collected and the party in motion. The ball was for the Master to formally propose to _Altus_ Victora, even though by noon the word had spread as far as Vol Dorma. The noise of chatter was near deafening between the dances, and did not quiet even when the feasting had begun. It was too loud for my tastes, but my opinion did not matter. The Master was having a good time, and so I used this to quieten my own irritations. After he had danced with his bride-to-be a few times, he brought her over and I was properly introduced. _Altus_ Victora was a strikingly beautiful woman with darks curls and eyes like emeralds, accentuated by the ocean blue of her dress and the jade decorating her neck and wrists. 

_'This is Fenris, Amatus.'_ The Master informed her. 

_'Ah, Kaith has spoken of you at length, incaensor.'_ She inclined her head just a little, a polite show of manners not respect. She had been brought up correctly, this was good. _'I am told those white markings are lyrium, is that right?'_

_'Yes, my Lady.'_ I bowed low. _'They were bestowed upon me by my Master's late father, a boon for my display of strength and will.'_

_'How kind of Danarius.'_ She agreed, her voice soft like honey. Her viridian gaze fell to the Master then. _'Such a process intrigues me, I would love to hear more about it.'_

A tender smile. _'Of course, Amatus. If you would follow me to the gardens, we can walk a while.'_

I went with them, as chaperone and bodyguard though I kept my distance. They walked ahead, arm-in-arm around the Master's colossal western gardens. Catching only titbits of their conversations I resigned myself to watching the shadows more intently. There was no way anyone could scale the walls, and there were guards posted at every possible entrance weak point; security had been doubled since the elf known as Melaris had fled. But still there was an unease to the air, as if something was lurking. I did not mention it to the Master as I did not want to worry his fiancée; yet as we trod the gravel paths, winding our way then deeper into the grass lawns and the maze of roses and hedgerows, I couldn't shake the feeling. The pursuer was getting closer. 

As the next opening came, I slipped left and waited. Sure enough a dark shape passed by the entranceway, following quietly behind the two lovers. I scowled and quickly tread through the maze, keeping myself parallel with the assailant until finally I was level with them once more. The air shone blue. Lyrium came to life as I poured every ounce of strength into my limbs. Charging forward my body connected with the prowler. I had thought I would knock them flat into the other opening, but they had strength behind them. Instead of to the ground, I only managed to press the shadow into the wall of hedge. My right arm reared back, hand poised to push into the chest of the attacker. I was caught off-guard as they grabbed my wrist and held it flat to my side. My left hand was still at their shoulder. _If I can just get it to their neck I can-_ They anticipated my move and ducked under my arm, catching the other wrist and twisting my arm behind my back. I snarled and tried to free myself but they simply brought my right arm to cross over its twin, and pushed my front against the hedge. 

'Easy, easy now.' His voice was low in my ear, like someone trying to soothe a spooked horse. 

_'Get your hands off me, filth!'_ I spat, trying to at least look at him over my shoulder. The angle was too awkward, I saw nothing but a dark hood even with the light of my markings. _'Tell me why you were pursuing my Master! I will not let you harm him!'_

There was no sound, no movement from the person. Then at last a gentle laugh. 'Can you speak Fereldan please? I don't know that much Tevene, you know.' 

'I asked why you were pursuing my Master.' I growled, my tongue feeling the words strangely. 

'I was following you, you silly elf.' Another chuckle. My hackles rose as I felt him lean into me. His face resting against the side of my neck, he inhaled deeply. 

'What are you-' 

His answer came as a whisper. 'I've missed you Leto.' 

Taking advantage of his dropped guard I pulled myself free and flipped our situation, but this time had him face me. Dazed by the movement it took him a second to realise what had happened, but then he laughed and his expression became soft. Now I could see his face. He was a Fereldan, but with darker hair than most I'd seen and eyes the colour of amber. His pale skin soft beneath my coarse hands, though here and there his hands had small calluses. _He is no stranger to a fight._ But such marks were not simply the symptoms of battle alone; no, to hold a sword or dagger would leave a different kiss. I glanced up and saw a staff tied to his back. 

I had not realised it, but during my examination my markings had come to fade, ebbing us both into darkness once more. 

I scowled. 'My name is not Leto, you have me mistaken for some other elf.' 

His voice lost its joviality, it sounded hurt. 'No, your name is Leto. That's the name your mother gave you.' 

'I do not remember my mother, or what she called me.' I admitted. 'But that doesn't matter now. I already have a name, given to me by my Master's father.' 

'No... What are you saying? Le-' 

'My name is Fenris.' I growled, pushing him a little more into the hedge. He gave a noise of pain and I felt his body begin to tremble. 'Now tell me why you were-' 

With a sudden burst of energy, he managed to pull a hand free of my hold. Despite his obvious strength he didn't strike me or summon magic. Instead he lay his palm against my cheek, thumb gently ghosting over my cheekbone. His breath rattled as the mage gave out a choked noise. _Is he crying?_ I furrowed my brow. 

'Oh Leto, what has he done to you? Refin's right, I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have left. I should have brought you with me to Sky-' 

I moved his hand away, frowning. Lyrium ignited but this time only as a light-source. I needed to see his face, to try and understand what madness was occurring. The only conclusions I had managed to draw were that either the mage was mistaking me for another elf and in his grief couldn't understand, or that he was quite simply mad. It was possible. Lyrium and the Fade could do strange things to careless mages, even those as powerful as my Master. His face was unshaven and his skin dirt-dusted from travelling, robes torn at the hem and sleeves where he had caught them. It would be easy to mistake him for a vagabond. 

His eyes wouldn't look away from my wrist. 'Leto, where's your favour?' 

'My what?' When he looked back to me his eyes burned with pain. It made me unable to meet his gaze. 

'The red silk you wear around your wrist. You made it out my sheets when we first made love, remember?' He held my face once more when I gave no positive indication. I truly had no idea what he was referring to. 'Oh Maker... Leto, you don't know who I am, do you?' 

'I am suspecting you are a lyrium-addled _Laetan_.' I replied. 'Now if you could please stop handling me so familiarly, I will escort you to the gat-' 

Warm lips pressed against my own, silencing all further speech. I froze, unable to move. His hand moved to the back of my head, pressing me closer to him. As if on instinct my lips moved a little, but I quickly pulled away and shoved him aside. He fell heavily to the grass. Without a second thought I fled, eager to catch up with my master and Lady Victora. The mage called out to me, begging me to remember. 

When I was back within earshot of the Magister, I stopped to compose myself. In the shadows of the maze I leaned back into the shrubbery and brought my hand up to cover my mouth. Whilst I was not the type to fret over something needlessly, it still shook me. The mage had taken my first kiss. But worse than that, the kiss had not been entirely unpleasant. I chided myself for being perverse. _Really Fenris? Who enjoys being suddenly kissed by a man who's clearly insane and was stalking you through the undergrowth?_

Both hands came up now to cover my eyes. Whilst I felt no need for love or companionship, it was clear that my body had other ideas. Was I so starved for affection that anyone would do? If another man or a woman approached me so, would I resist or welcome their interest too? I tried to entertain the thought. I pictured attempting to kiss Aren the elven slave who hunted deer for the feasts, _Altus_ Victora with her shimmering eyes, even my Master though it made me sick to think of such depravity. Not one incited euphoria within me. Yet when I dared to think of that mage, of how he held me in the darkness, his lips caressing my own... 

My cheeks heated and I shook my head. _No, this is ridiculous. It is a distraction from my duties and should be forgotten._ Besides, in all likelihood the mage would be found by the guards and kicked out. I would never have to see him or worry about him again. And that suited me just fine. 

###### 

The morning that followed I found myself able to do as I pleased. A rare thing, which left me feeling a little lost. Master was suffering with a hangover that not even magic could aid, and since he could do little more than sleep it off, he had bid me from his sight. But what was I to do with my time? Ordinarily when I was not serving I was eating or sleeping, biding my strength for whatever Master required of me next. But now I faced a nothingness. If I could play music or cook or even read, then there would be some use for me. Alas I became a slave without a role, so I went to the gardens and watched the sky. 

Hours later Master was awake and feeling a little better. He summoned me to his side in the receiving room, and after a glass of water he began seeing _Altus_ and _Soporati_ alike. Two were time-wasters begging for more magical assistance with their crops, there was a drunken _Laetan_ demanding he be restored to _Altus_ rank, and a basket of fruit from the thoughtful Victora. By supper time Master had had enough, he waved his palm to the guard deeming he would see no more today. Yet at that moment the doors were pushed open and a hooded figure stormed in. He stood before the throne without bowing, his staff held across his body. Quickly I reached back for my sword, but Master's hand stopped me. 

_'Peace, Fenris. I believe he means no harm.'_

I growled low and moved my hand back to my side. The figure glanced to me before eyeing my Master, slowly he removed his hood. It was the mage from the previous night. 

'Ah, Serah Hawke.' Master smiled gently and motioned his guards to leave. It didn't matter that Master knew him, I had seen firsthand how cunning this Fereldan was. He was not to be trusted. 'It is of great relief to see you. I had heard you had perished when aiding the Inquisitor.' 

'You heard wrong. It was Stroud who gave his life to defend our escape.' The mage gave a twinge of emotion there. Regret perhaps and a little sadness. 

'But you are alive and well, as is Serah Lavellan.' Master replied wisely. 'Two who bear much more importance than one Grey Warden.' 

'Stroud was a good man.' It was said through gritted teeth. 'But I did not come here to discuss near-death experiences.' 

'Ah no, of course not.' The Magister's smile widened a little, and I relaxed. It was fine, Master knew what he was doing and was more than a match for this Hawke's wits. 'You came to discuss my _incaensor_ , did you not? I'm afraid he's not for sale, Serah.' 

Fury bloomed in the mage's eyes but he tried to hold his voice steady. It was amusing to watch him so frustrated, it helped cool my immoral thoughts from that night. 'He is not yours. Leto is a free man.' 

The mage in scarlet chuckled. 'Very well, we shall ask his opinion. Fenris, do you wish to be set free?' 

I furrowed my brow. 'Have I done something to displease you, Master?' 

'Not at all, I am simply curious.' 

I shook my head. 'Then no Master, I wish to remain at your side.' 

'Well, Serah Hawke, there you have it from the elf's mouth. He likes being in my service.' 

The man called Hawke wore an expression somewhere between sorrow and anger. His brow contorted but his lips shook and his eyes welled. Fury won as he dispelled the tears, but then he reined this in behind a mask of tolerance. I had to admit, the man was good at controlling himself. Staff moved to the side now, he fell to one knee and bowed his head. 

'I humbly ask to be made a guest of House Caecina.' His tone was now gentle, and evenly paced. One would never have guessed at the rage inside him without the previous display. 

'On what grounds?' The Magister raised an eyebrow. 

'I have been sent as an ambassador by His Royal Highness King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden.' It was Hawke's turn to wear a smile then. 'And as such I have been given the Archon's blessing to remain in whichever Magisterial house I please.' 

Master snorted and then nodded. 'Very well, House Caecina bids you welcome for as long as you remain in Minrathous. I shall have the slaves prepare your room immediately.' He clicked his fingers and two serving elves moved from their place on the wall to gather the other servants needed. 'As for Fenris, you are welcome to try, Hawke. It will amuse me to see you sink deeper into despair as your friend remains ever-so at my call.' 

'You are too kind.' The mage stood and bowed low, though he never took his eyes from me. 'I shall see you at supper.' 

And with that he left. 

The look had worried me, not because I believed he would pounce on me again, but because it stirred something within me. It turned my stomach and made my head ache. When I gulped down bile it was already too late to realise the Master had been speaking to me. Desperately I tried to piece together his meaning from the snippet I had heard. It was useless, I asked for it to be repeated. 

_'I said he is a strange man, but this will be a welcome source of entertainment until the wedding. Don't you think?'_

_'Yes, Master.'_ I bowed a little. _'Though may I ask a question?'_

_'Speak.'_

_'The way Hawke and Master spoke, it seems he knows of me; yet I have never met him before. Why does he take such an interest in me? And why does he call me "Leto"?'_

The Master laughed and moved a stray section of hair from his eyes, smoothing it back into place. _'Many know of you, Fenris, and many are envious of my possession of you. But Hawke is different. He has seen many years at battle, and I fear it has knocked something loose. He once knew a warrior elf called Leto, and they became lovers or so I've heard. A few years ago Leto died at the hands of a mage, and it seems Serah Hawke thinks he did not in fact perish, but that he lives in service to the very men who attacked him. It is my assumption, Fenris, that he believes you are his Leto.'_

It made sense now. Why he had said those words about someone altering me, why he had kissed me so suddenly. Though he was not lyrium-addled, the mage was without his mind. He would have to learn the hard way that his lover was dead, and that I was not Leto. It struck me as odd that my markings had not prevented Hawke from realising the truth sooner. But he was mad, and perhaps in his confused state he was mistaking lyrium branches for Dalish _vallaslin_. In some way I pitied the man. It cannot have been easy to lose the one you love. Yet at the same time I felt relief dawn upon me. I was not his Leto, which meant I no longer had to worry about his misguided affections. A few more simple rejections and he was likely to leave me alone. 

###### 

Later when I was alone in my room, I curled onto my side on the pallet. All through supper the mage had kept his gaze dancing back to me when he thought no one else was looking. He would smile at me gently from his place at the table, watching whenever I moved to pour wine. As I had leant near him, refilling his goblet, he brushed his hand against the back of my own. A shiver had run down my spine and I had had to try very hard to keep my face expressionless. There in the darkness of my room I arched my fingers and hugged my fist close to my chest. No one ever touched me. Such acts caused me discomfort because of my markings, the skin made sensitive by the lyrium brands. The mage could not have known that, and so I did not bear him any ill will. But still, why was it his touch was not as painful as it should have been? 

Closing my eyes tightly I tried to think of other things, though it was useless, Hawke refused to be forgotten so easily. I growled and rolled over, digging my face into the furs. It was then I decided how I would deal with him. I would allow his attempts at affection thrice more, and each time I would deny him. After these if he still persisted I would again explain to him clearly that I was not Leto, and ask my Master for his help. With this set, I was finally able to sleep. 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Altus._ = A rank in the Tevinter Imperium. A mage who is from a long lineage of magical blood.**

**2) _Incaensor._ = Tevene word for a dangerous magical substance. It can also be used in derogatory slang as a word for a magic-using slave.**

**3) _Amatus._ = Tevene word used for one's lover, literally means "Beloved" or "Darling".**

**4) _Laetan._ = The middle rank of Tevinter populace. A _Laetan_ is usually one born into magic, though their family was previously non-magical. The plural is _Laetans_.**

**5) _Soporati._ = The lowest rank of the Tevinter populace. The non-magical and those deemed "slaves" are of such a title. Elves (even magical ones) cannot rise above this rank.**

**6) _Vallaslin._ = The markings Dalish tattoo onto their faces, literally it means "Blood Writing".**


	18. The bathhouse

I did not see much of Hawke over the coming week. He remained mostly to himself, save at meal times when he would try to catch my eye or touch my hand and arm. Considering he desperately believed me to be his lover, he was being exceptionally well behaved and had made no attempts to corner me since the night in the maze. Perhaps he had realised such sudden acts had no effect on me. No, it was rather that they evoked such a violent reaction in me that I felt the need to flee, for I did not understand it. But regardless, it seemed Hawke understood I responded negatively towards such brazen displays. It made me curious as to how he would try and win me subtly. 

Master seemed to watch Hawke's attempts with amusement. There was never a verbal comment made, but his smile said it all. It was times like this which tore me. My sudden newfound interest for the mage - I refused to acknowledge it as affection - made me a little protective of him, but this set me at odds with my desire to see my Master content and well. I was being held between their hands and pulled, as two children might tug at a doll. It was only a matter of time until I was snatched up by one of them or torn beyond repair. A week before I would have said my Master would have won every time, but a miniscule doubt arose in me now. 

Though Hawke believed me to be his deceased lover I could not deny that the interest he was showing in me was flattering. Of all who had ever displayed such a curiosity, it was he whom I wished most to succeed. Such wicked thoughts had me pray at night to the Maker and His bride. What I was doing was cruel, taking advantage of a sick man who was so lost to his grief that he would make himself believe another elf is his heart. But there was a little hope within me that maybe I could heal this mage. Perhaps one day he would see me as Fenris, and come to love the man I truly was. When the thoughts of Hawke came to me in sleepless times, this was what I prayed for. All the while my other self chastised for desiring anything other than the Master's contentment. 

_The Master is to find you a bride, and yet you throw this back in his face? You are an ungrateful wretch._

_He said I may choose. What if I were to choose the mage Hawke?_

_Master has ordered you to have a child. Hawke is a man, and cannot grant you such. You know the ways of Tevinter. You are an elf. You were born to follow orders. The only hope you have of being with such a man is if you are made his secret lover. Do not dream of such a foolishness as being the mage's husband._

_I am free to dream what I wish._

_You are not free, Fenris._

I received very little sleep the following nights until at last I once again accepted the truth. Whatever dalliance the mage was seeking, I could not provide it. My duty was to my Master firstly. Even if I did become Hawke's lover, then he would be forced to hide me, even more so when he took a wife. Yes, this was for the best. I would continue to ignore his advances and steel my heart away. Soon he would tire and leave, and I would be left feeling nothingness once more. 

###### 

Walking down the sand-coloured stone hallways, I made my way past tapestries of Andraste bathing and sculptures of clothe-less women and men alike enjoying fountains and pools. It was not strange for me to be here, after all I accompanied my Master here at least twice a week. What was strange was that I had come separately to him. I had been resting at the time, the sun having set and the Master had released me for the night. However at the last moment it seemed he had had a change of heart and wished to bathe. Of course that meant his bodyguard was to go with him, and so as soon as I had heard word I rushed down to the public bathhouse. There was very little danger there. The hot spring my Master preferred resided in a room with only a single door, and whenever it was in use he would hire out the entire building for his own personal use. This was why I discovered a ghostlike emptiness in the main bathing pool and not a single attendant to be seen. If the Master needed something he had his own slaves to ask of, such was his power and wealth. 

Eventually the passageways gave way to the door I sought. A small wooden thing almost lost amongst the smooth stone and an arch-carving of a serpent. 

A single guard was stationed outside. _'He is within, I am to leave when you enter.'_

_'Thank you.'_ I bowed to him and then entered the bathing room beyond. 

It was as I recalled it. A small room with the hot spring to the western-most wall; a marble serpent's mouth poured more steaming water into the pool as the heat rose from its floor. There was a U-shaped walkway around it, covered by a pillar in each corner detailing a depiction of a woman to represent each of the seasons. From the doorway I looked right, expecting to see my Master already submerged in the murky water. The figure indeed had dark hair. Hearing me enter he turned and leaned against the side of the pool, a dopey smile misted upon his all-too-warm face. 

'Good evening, Leto.' 

'Hawke!' I turned away and frowned deeply. 'I apologise, I assumed my Master was bathing here. I will leave immediately.' 

'Don't go.' He begged. 'I was the one who called you here.' 

'Then I really should return to my Master's side.' 

'He's dismissed you for the night.' Hawke corrected, and he had me there. Once my Master bid me to leave I was free to do as I wished. 'Please, just sit with me a while.' 

'Very well.' 

Slowly I sank down where I had been stood, keeping my back to him. 

He chuckled. 'Leto, you can look at me you know.' 

Growling low I spoke to him over my shoulder. 'I am not Leto. I keep telling you, my name is Fenris.' 

'If I call you "Fenris" will you look at me?' The mage gave a sigh, and there was a sound of some water displacing. 

'I am not permitted to look.' I replied. 'I am _Soporati_ , you are _Altus_.' 

'I thought I was a _Laetan_?' He held some sort of smirk in his tone. 

'I have since discovered your father and sister were mages, as are your maternal aunt and cousins. You are from a very strongly magical family, Hawke. This would make you beyond doubt an _Altus_ if you were born of Tevinter.' 

'Yet you still speak to me like I am your equal.' 

'I-I apologise, Messere.' 

'Don't, I like it.' Movement in the water seemed to signal Hawke was swimming about a little. When he spoke again his voice was soft. 'Come on Fenris, you can look. We're both men here.' 

'That is the other end of the issue.' 

I sighed but decided to give up. He would only keep pestering me till I gave in. Slowly I moved myself to face him. Hawke was now on the far side of the spring, sitting on the edge's submerged bench. Gently he kicked up his feet, allowing his pinkened toes to bob up and down on the surface. He made no attempt to hide his bare chest, glistening as the water cooled and ran down his toned front. 

'It's just you and me, Fen.' He held out his right hand as if for me to take it. 'And the water's really nice.' 

'I'm fine over here, thank you.' My voice hitched a little and I hoped he hadn't noticed it. If he had he showed no sign of using it against me. 

As I tried to fix my stare upon his face I realised he had bothered to groom himself; his rib-length black hair fanned out smoothly across his shoulders, his face now cleanly shaven and his pale skin soft bore a healthier shine to it. If a Desire demon could take male form I knew then and there it would be his. He left his hand extended, those amber eyes flashing a dangerous "come hither". 

'I'm not asking you to remove your clothes, I can dry them with magic later.' As if to prove his point, a flame lapped up from his fingers before vanishing. 

_A short bath won't hurt._ I coaxed myself. _And I have always wanted to see what the hot springs are like; this may be my only chance._

A small nod as I got to my feet and edged nearer to the water. Satisfied, Hawke let his hand sink back under the green surface. I decided it was best I at least remove my skirt, or else it would billow ridiculously as I entered the water; leggings and my underclothes would be quite enough of a barrier. Tentatively I dipped one foot in. At first the water was so hot on my sensitive skin I almost wrenched my toes straight out again, but I did not want to seem like a child in front of the mage. So I waited till I could comfortably bear the sting, and then stood with both my ankles deep. There was no change in his delicate smile, though his eyes never stopped trailing the length of my body. Finally I managed to sink myself into the pool, standing on the tiled bottom and having the water-level lap at my shoulders. 

The silence between us felt heavy. I coughed into my fist, the air thicker with steam this close to the water. 'I-I see why Master enjoys the springs so much.' 

'Mmmm.' He nodded in agreement and shifted to sink a little further under the water. 'They had one of these at Skyhold but I hardly got to use it. Between Dorian with his beauty regimes and Cole's "resting where he can't hear the voices", the place was hardly ever empty like this.' 

'Dorian?' I looked to him. 'Surely you don't mean Magister Pavus' son?' 

'Ah, you know of him.' Hawke laughed and moved a wet strand of hair from his cheek. 'Of course you would, I forgot Kaith is a Magister too. Even if he wasn't, Dorian is quite the colourful character. I suppose he's left Minrathous in quite a state, coming out openly and then dating a Tal-Vashoth.' 

I turned away and looked to the water, feeling my own face burn. 'He is a disgrace.' 

'That's not like you.' The water lapped at my neck as he moved. I felt his cool breath at my ear, his warm hand upon my shoulder. Hawke's tone became gentle, sympathetic. 'Fen, we have no right to judge him.' 

'What makes you say that?' I snapped. I tried to pull away from his touch, the gentle sting where his fingers touched my markings that was all too quickly settling into a numbed comfort. 

He turned me with a single hand and looked intently at me, a smirk on his face as he tilted my chin up. 'Well, we both like men.' 

Blood rushed to my face, try as I might to quell it. ' _Vishante kaffas!_ I don't know where you hear such disgusting rumours, but I do not-' 

'Fen, you're blushing.' 

'It's the steam! It's too hot in here.' 

'Alright, hang on.' 

He swam across the pool and retrieved a jug, he then dipped it in the water and used his magic to chill it. Hawke moved behind me. Before I could ask what he was doing the cool water poured down the back of my neck, causing me to hiss and try to move away from it. He followed me and with the last bit dumped it right over my head. I coughed and spluttered, trying to move my hair out of my eyes as he chuckled and replaced the jug. 

' _Kaffas!_ ' 

'Do you feel better now?' He came back towards me. 

'No, now I am too cold.' I tried to sink myself a little lower in the water, but to go much further would mean dipping my nose below the waterline. And - Maker curse it - I still needed to breathe. 

'I can help with that too.' 

Sharply I moved away from him, terrified he was about to call his fire. I reached the edge of the pool, but had in my panic chosen the wrong side. My escape was completely cut off by the sheer wall of the serpent spout, and there was nothing to clamber up onto. I was about to turn and swim for the northern edge when two strong arms came about my waist. 

'The way you move in this water, I'd swear you were half fish.' He joked. 'I always wondered why Isabela took a liking to you. It must be the whole pirate and siren thing you hear about.' 

Gently Hawke walked me backwards, pressing me against the wall. It was clear what was about to happen. I cursed myself. I was a fool for ever getting into the water. But hadn't I known where this was going the second I saw the bathing mage? Hadn't I been spending hours at night fantasising about something like this? 

'Skyhold was torture without you.' Hawke whispered in my ear, his lips gently caressing the side of my cheek. 'Seeing the others with their loved ones, and yet I had been the martyr-fool and left mine alone and confused at home. I wanted to go back and fetch you, but the Corypheus was moving too quickly. The Inquisition needed me to find Stroud, and then to aid them at Adamant. I spent every night laying awake, thinking of you.' 

_Leto. He's talking about Leto again... I'm not Leto._

_But he mentions the Inquisition and the Magister Corypheus. Those are recent affairs, not years ago like Leto's death._ I looked deep into his eyes, now growing dark and heavy-lidded. _Why would he confuse the two events? Had he taken another lover after Leto? Does he believe I am both Leto and this other elf?_ The mage did not appear insane, after all he had held sensible conversations with my Master and others among the household. I had even seen him reading in the library reading complex texts on Maker-knew-what. I was no true judge on madness, but surely he would be laughing at nothing or thrashing or at least not able to comprehend what went on around him. Hawke seemed too in control of himself to be truly mad. 

A hand slid down and stroked the back of my thigh. I shivered and gave out a gasp. He took advantage of this and covered my mouth with his own. Here I would like to say that I was a obedient slave, that I pushed the man from me and did not look back until I was back in my room again. But I did not. I clung to the mage like I was dying and he the only thing that was keeping me alive. He hummed against my lips before deepening the kiss, his hands rising from the water to tangle in my hair. Though I was enjoying his attention immensely, there was something uncomfortable about our positioning. Taking him by the shoulders I switched places without opposition, it seemed he had already pre-empted this. 

As his back pressed against the cool stone he moaned. 'Oh Maker... Leto...' 

It was as if he had poured ice water down my back again. I stepped away and brought a hand to my face. _What am I doing?! He's a mage and I'm just an elf, and even if it were not so, I am not his lover. I am simply a mistaken identity._ It hurt to think of this, but it was true. All while he kissed me he thought of nothing but the dead elf. It was not my name he exuded when in such delight, and I could no longer fool myself that it was. _This is wrong..._ I swam to the edge of the pool and heaved myself out, quickly picking up my skirt and retying it at my waist. 

'Wait, Leto. Where are you going?' His voice had lost all desire now. He was confused and hurt, and I had made him so. It stung. 

'I keep telling you, Messere.' I frowned, not daring to look at him. 'My name is not Leto, and you must understand that.' 

Realisation hit him. The water sloshed about as he made his way quickly to the edge. 'I'm sorry! Le-Fen, please don't leave!' 

'Goodnight Messere.' I bowed to him with my eyes shut tightly, and left as swiftly as I could manage. 

The walk back was awkward. My wet leggings dampened the inside of the skirt and made it cling to the sides of my legs, not to mention the front had gotten rather taut. The cool evening air helped, but after the heat of the water I found myself shivering. I would have to light the fire tonight and dry my clothes by it, else I was to get sick. This was what I tried to busy myself with when I returned, but my mind kept bringing back the images of Hawke pressed against me, the feel of his skin against my own. Tears fell as I curled up in my furs and hated every part of myself. It was not fair. He was the only being I had ever desired, and to know his love for me was a pale reflection of his love for that dead elf! I knew I had been a fool to forget he did not truly harbour any feelings for me. The fact I had lulled myself into believing that for one moment it was me he was interested in was worthy of an award of idiocy in itself. It was time I stopped trying to hurt myself. The mage didn't love me, and to give him my attention was simply fooling myself and confusing him. The next time anything occurred with Hawke I would immediately refuse him. It was getting too dangerous to try and appease him gently first. 

_You mean to appease yourself._

I bit back the thought and nestled myself further into my pallet. That night I fell asleep with an aching heart and awoke with a sneeze. 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Soporati._ = The lowest rank of the Tevinter populace. The non-magical and those deemed "slaves" are of such a title. Elves (even magical ones) cannot rise above this rank.**

**2) _Altus._ = A rank in the Tevinter Imperium. A mage who is from a long lineage of magical blood.**

**3) _Laetan._ = The middle rank of Tevinter populace. A _Laetan_ is usually one born into magic, though their family was previously non-magical. The plural is _Laetans_.**

**4) _Vishante kaffas._ = A curse referring to something distastefully said, literally "You sh*t on my tongue".**

**5) _Kaffas._ = *curse word* "Sh*t".**


	19. A cold dish served twice

_"Anyone will admit I am a fool. I stick my nose into others' business, and wield my staff where any Templar may see it. I take unpaid work from elves and humans alike, all to see their loved ones returned to their arms or some foul injustice righted. Anders joked that should I even consider becoming a spirit host I would do well as a vessel of Justice, or perhaps even Compassion. I have never considered such a thing, but for the first time tonight I was thankful for my foolhardiness._

_The job turned out to be a scam, it was not mercenaries we fought but slavers. Not that I feel too put out; a dead slaver is a good slaver; but I digress. We had thought our taskmaster was a dwarven merchant, one Anso. Yet in truth he too was employed by a higher power. And Maker! What a power that man is. Well, an elf to be precise and a seasoned warrior from Tevinter. His name is Fenris, which he has said means "Little wolf". A name suitable to the agile and mysterious being he is._

_He bears upon his skin the strangest things, markings made from pure lyrium. They can be used, as I have since seen, to phase his body through that of others and then to solidify again at will. The warrior uses this most effectively to tear out or crush a man's still-beating heart. It is a strange thing to be near him when he performs this. The lyrium sings to the magic in my blood, and I long to run my fingers over those glowing lines; yet at the same time something in me draws away, afraid of such power._

_But it isn't just his lyrium which calls to me. I am no stranger to my feelings, I have been at peace with myself for a long time - despite how mother still insists I need a wife. The company of men has always been my preference, but this elf... He inspires in me a desire that I have not yet known. Hair the colour of moonlight and eyes like the forest in spring. He is beautiful, and never before have I wanted a man's touch as much as his._

_It is wrong of me to want him. After all, he is an ex-slave and has a very understandable dislike of mages from this experience. But still, some part of me hopes one day he'll look past my staff and robes and see me as any other man in Thedas. He has agreed to join my little band of misfits, to give himself a purpose until his Master returns and he might finally end him. I do not know how long it will take this "Danarius" to come back to Kirkwall, nor what the elf will do when his revenge is finally complete. All I am certain of is that I will savour every moment I can steal at his side."_

The pages blurred and I felt the need to hold my head in my free-hand. This had to be a forgery, or at the very least Hawke had edited his old journals. Try as I might I could find no evidence of magical or physical tampering. With a sigh I marked my page and shut the damned thing. 

###### 

Four days before, two weeks since the bathhouse incident, Hawke caught me in the gardens. I was helping the maids pick apples for the Master's table when he arrived and caused the women to drop their work and fall into low curtsies. I turned, ready to scold them for defiling the food when I noticed the mage and dropped into my own low bow. 

'Messere Hawke, you honour us with your presence.' 

He glanced at the maids. 'Could you- could you ask them to leave? I need to speak to you in private.' 

I nodded curtly and looked to the three. _'Please take the fruit inside and wash it. I will return to our Master.'_

The girls picked up as much as they could carry and scurried off inside. The air once more grew heavy between the mage and I. Images from the bathhouse surfaced. The heat rose in my cheeks. _Remember Fenris, you are to refuse him. You cannot risk hurting you both again._ He held out a stack of books I had not seen him carrying, bound together by two leather belts. Without thinking I took them. 

'If you want to, I'd like you to read these.' His tone was gentle and swaddled in apology. 'They're my journals that I've kept since I first got to Kirkwall. I brought them with me to Skyhold figuring they might contain something I'd forgotten about Corypheus, but it seems they'll do more help here. It's all up-to-date and I put them in order for you. Fen, I just want to say I'm sorry, and to help you be able to understand me. ' 

'Messere, this is very kind of you.' I looked to the books in my arms, unable to meet his gaze. 'But I'm afraid I don't know how to read.' 

'You do know.' He pressed gently, walking towards me and stopping only when his hands were gently holding my shoulders. 'I taught you to when we lived in Kirkwall. Here.' 

Gently he took the tomes from me again and undid the fastenings. Taking hold of the first book he flipped it open and turned it to show me. 

'Read this.' 

'Messere I-' 

'Please try, Fenris.' 

I sighed and looked down at the page. Then furrowed my brow. _It- It can't be._ The black swirls should have meant nothing, and yet there they were making perfect sense. What the mage said was true. I could read. 

My voice shook a little, but it still brought a smile to his face. '" _Garrett Hawke, age 23 years. 9:30 Dragon._ "' 

A rumble of laughter escaped him and he pulled me in close and pressed my head to his shoulder. 'Oh Fen, you are still in there.' 

'Hawke!' I barked and tried to pull myself out of his arms. I succeeded and was left holding the first journal, my hair and clothes slightly ruffled. 

He looked away, cheeks flushing red. 'Sorry, I was being too sudden again. I have to remember that you don't-' Hawke turned to walk away. 'Please, read them.' 

He left quickly after that, leaving me alone with the books and a mild headache. How strange it was that I could read. Master had never taught me, and I could not recollect my mother ever doing so. In fact I could not recall my mother at all, so there was little chance me knowing if she had tutored me. Regardless it seemed the mage had known something about me after all, something even I had not realised. 

###### 

The first thing I did with the books was hide them. I ferreted them underneath my pallet as an urchin child hides stolen goods. Even though I had repeatedly told myself I was not going to read them, there was still a small ember of selfishness in me. I did not want my Master to find them, for I knew in an instant he would take them from me and likely burn them. It didn't matter if he knew that I could read. Those journals were Hawke's and he was using them to try and win their game. Master could not abide losing. 

After two days of sleeping atop them, I caught myself retrieving them. Only one at a time, but still laying on my side and loving the feel of warm parchment between my fingers. Words were meaningless to me, I allowed my eyes to glaze so I couldn't understand what was written. But the feel and the smell of the books was enough to fan those smoking coals, to want to know more about the mage and to taste that which my Master would forbid me. 

So there I sat on the fourth day, after reading them over for the third time. Drinking in Hawke's every syllable and trying to fathom the strangeness of his inner mind. The story he told was of a young refugee, an apostate mage who fled the Blight with his family. After a year of working off his debt to a band of mercenaries, he became interested in an expedition to the Deep Roads of the Free Marches. That first year of freedom Hawke gathered many new friends; a merchant dwarf, a rogue Grey Warden, a pirate, a blood mage, an exiled Prince and an elven ex-slave. And it was the year Hawke first fell in love. Later the Deep Roads rewarded him richly with enough gold and treasures to buy his family out of poverty, but it also spelled disaster. Because of a betrayal by Varric's brother, they were delayed in getting home. Carver, Hawke's younger brother, was stricken with Blight and was felled by Hawke's mercy blow. 

The following years were better to him. He managed to gain notoriety and win back his mother's home in Hightown. Hawke aided his friends in many ways, easing their suffering, and by his fourth year in Kirkwall Hawke had won the affections of his love, the Tevinter elf. But it was all too much for him; memories of his past and his owners had caught up with him and he fled, leaving Hawke alone. However the mage did not give up, and decided he would patiently wait for his love to return. During this time the Arishok had had enough of his waiting in Kirkwall's docks. He demanded the Qun's stolen treasure be returned. Little did Hawke and his companions realise it was their pirate, Isabela, who had taken it. Hawke defended his friend in a duel of honour, finally slaying the Arishok and causing an end to Kirkwall's riot. He was named Champion, and finally all seemed well. Until he discovered his mother had been kidnapped by a blood mage. It was too late for Leandra, and Hawke was forced to watch as his mother died in his arms. 

In Hawke's seventh year, just as all seemed to be going well for the Champion - his elf had returned, his life finally settled down - the powder keg of Templar and mage fury blew. Helped by Anders, Hawke's Grey Warden companion, the Kirkwall rebellion finally set off in earnest. The Chantry lay in pieces, the Starkhaven Prince demanding blood and Hawke too broken to comply. He let Anders live and set about defending the innocent mages. Hawke's life seemed to become much milder after this. He and his elven love ran away to Ferelden where they travelled a while and stayed out of Templar sights. Eventually they chose to live in the Hinterlands, on a small farm by Redcliffe. There they made their home and one day the elf proposed to Hawke. The next morning Hawke had slipped out, leaving a note, and headed for Skyhold to aid the Inquisition against the Darkspawn named Corypheus. 

The rest of the story was a wash of Inquisition notes, rambling on Corypheus and his guilt over leaving his fiancé behind. All except one entry where he detailed that after the siege on Adamant, Hawke had accidentally been transported physically into the Fade along with Stroud, the Inquisitor and her companions. I was no mage but I had never heard of a person being physically in the Fade. At least, not since the destruction of the Golden City. Hawke's story had become too outlandish at this part and I had decided instead to focus on the more likely areas, namely his life in Kirkwall and the Hinterlands. 

Hawke's lover puzzled me most. When Hawke described him he fit my description perfectly, which I then understood why the mage was mistaking me for his "Leto". But the issue arose where he referred to the elf. He did not call the warrior Leto until much later in the journals, not until they had escaped to Ferelden. Before this the elf was named "Fenris", and he had been in service to Magister Danarius Caecina, just as I had been before my current Master. Lyrium markings were another thing that troubled me. In all my time serving Master Danarius and now Master Kaith, I had never heard of another _incaensor_ like myself. In fact, the Magisters had deemed me so precious for my marks that Master studied endlessly to understand them, whilst now trying to find me a bride to pass their power on through my blood. The likelihood of Hawke's lover having these markings and I having them, and us both working for the same Magisterial family, whilst looking identical was an impossibility. 

This however did not rule out that Hawke had forged the diaries to try and pull me to his side. But in truth, could a man write such a story in but two weeks without mistakes and have it age so? The books smelt of dust, a lifetime on a shelf and almost faintly of mountain air. The ink was too absorbed, the pages becoming fragile with near over a decade of existing. No, there was no way the mage could have faked them. Not even magic could aid him in this. And that left only one possibility. 

_I really am his Leto._

But this did not explain how I came to be here under Master's ownership. It did not explain why I had no memory of Hawke, or of my life in Kirkwall. 

I glanced over at the pile of books, pulling the newest off the stack and opening it. Only half filled, this one dated 9:41 Dragon. One of the last entries was from Hawke's journey to Weisshaupt, the fortress of the Grey Wardens. 

_"I was stopped by a messenger today. I would have asked how he found me, but he bore the royal seal of Ferelden and said he came from Warden Commander Tabris. The message he delivered has filled me with such sadness and self-fury that I almost cannot write._

_Leto has been captured in Tevinter._

_Maker watch over him and speed my steps."_

'"Captured".' The word rolled from my sleepless tongue and sounded strangely in the air around me. 

To be captured meant I had been free. But what was I doing near Tevinter? If I was truly the elf Hawke wrote of, then I should have been loath to come within forty mile of the border. Perhaps I had taken his leaving as a sign of rejection. Had I come north to fight Magisters and slavers alike, to meet my death? Try as I might I could not dissuade myself from thinking this. Knowing my own personality it was indeed something I was very likely to do. Ending my own life would be a crime in the eyes of the Maker, He who had given me life. But to die in worthy battle, removing that which I hated- 

Did I hate the Magisters? The thought had never occurred to me before. Master provided a roof and food for me, and all he asked was that I serve without question. It had always seemed such a fair deal. But the Fenris Hawke wrote of despised this. Once he had been given a taste of freedom on Seheron he had turned his back on the cruelties of his Master and run. Given the choice would I? Would I run away from Master and try to seek a new life with this mage? 

_I want to be with him. I want to be with Hawke._ I shut the book and placed it aside, retrieving the fourth in the series. _But I am afraid._

_"Fenris, my first and my last. Though you are fearful and in pain, please know I will always wait for you. A day, a year or eternity, whichever you need. I will be here for you, my love."_

I bundled the books together and hid them once more beneath my bed furs. I forwent my skirt, deciding it would just get in the way. It was set in my mind now what I must do, but first I had to get something back. 

###### 

The guard wandered back and forth. After taking a final glance up at the window, he turned the corner. It had only taken an hour of waiting to learn his pattern. His leaving meant I had ten minutes to creep across the garden, scale three floors of wall and then get into the room without waking the occupant. Once inside I would have to be incredibly quiet, obtain what was rightfully mine and get out of there as quickly and silently as I could manage. I was however all too familiar with my ineptitude at stealth. It also did not help that surprise made my lyrium marking light up, so should I be found there would be no doubt who the intruder was. 

Steeling myself I made to stick my foot outside of the bushes. It was then something grabbed me from behind. After a series of kicking, punching and lyrium sparks I faced my attacker. 

' _Fasta vass!_ I nearly killed you Hawke!' 

'Shhhh...' He pressed a gloved finger to my lips, smirking. 'We're being stealthy, remember?' 

I rolled my eyes, lowering my voice. 'Why are you here?' 

'I saw you sneaking round the corridors, thought you might be up to something and came to help. It's what I do.' The mage gave a shrug. 

'Do you even know what I'm planning on doing?' 

'One of two things.' Hawke held aloft fingers to count on. 'One, you're going to sneak in there and kill Kaith. Or two, you're going to sneak in there and retrieve your favour." 

I sighed and took hold of his hand. His expression shifted, a guarded hopefulness. 'I read the books, Hawke.' 

'And?' He dared not let his hopes rise, and I could see the tears already forming. 

'I might not remember it, but I willing to try.' Gently I reached out to hold his chin. 'And if I can't, then we'll have to make new memories.' 

Those tears began to fall. 'Fenris.' 

I wiped them away with a gentle shake of my head. 'No, Hawke. My name is Leto.' 

###### 

We wasted our ten minute slot. Between trying to keep Hawke's sobs below a wailing horn and both of us sharing eager kisses, the guard had already returned and so we sat for another hour in almost silence. Our hands held tightly together. 

The time went quicker than before, and soon the armoured soldier had turned the corner. I signalled to Hawke and we moved towards the manor's wall. He cast a barrier over me and then hoisted me up. Clinging to the stonework was relatively easy. Keeping my hold as I tried to shimmy up the wall was another matter entirely. Twice I lost my footing, making Hawke nervously glance up or brace to catch me. Yet remarkably I managed to stay attached. Reaching the Magister's window, I sat on the sill and gave a thumbs up to Hawke; my signal to tell him to hide once more. He did so, theatrically blowing a kiss before tumbling into the bush with all the grace of a blind nug. 

I resisted the urge to put my hand to my face and focused on the window. As luck would have it it hadn't been locked since it was such a warm night. Pushing it open, I slipped through into my Master's bedroom. I had never been in this room before - I had had no reason to - and thus I quickly realised it was going to be rather difficult to know where to start looking. The option that Master had already destroyed the favour was beyond question; firstly because he knew he could use it to hurt Hawke, and secondly because I didn't dare believe it otherwise. That scrap of red cloth was an anchor, and one day when I truly remembered it would mean something to me. It proved Hawke's claims and was a symbol of our love. Why else would Master have asked if I recognised it all those months ago? He had used it as a test to see if I had lost my memory. 

A look to the bed revealed the mage slumbering beneath his satin sheets. I had fallen out of a tree, that's why I had amnesia. At least that's what Master had said. But now as I thought about it, why wouldn't he lie about that too? He took my favour, delighted in the fact I couldn't remember Hawke. Master was my informant, telling me everything about my life, the world around me and the people in it. How easy it would be for him to warp my view without me even noticing it. 

Before I realised what I was doing I was looming over the Magister, my hand extended for his chest. My lyrium began to heat and sing. In his sleep the Magister rolled over, his arm coming untucked from behind his head. Beneath his white sleeve I saw a glimmer of red. My world illuminated blue. 

###### 

As soon as I entered the bushes Hawke was before me. 

'Leto, you're ok.' His hand roved over my face inspecting for wounds. Seeing my expression he stopped. Worry grew on his handsome face. 'Love, what did you do?' 

I held them up for him to see. One wrist circled in crimson silk, the other elbow-deep in thick red. 'I took back my freedom.' 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Incaensor._ = Tevene word for a dangerous magical substance. It can also be used in derogatory slang as a word for a magic-using slave.**

**2) _Fasta vass._ = A Tevinter curse.**


	20. Old flame burn anew

The sound of our ragged breath and the pound of Hawke's boots on stone filled my ears. We'd been running hours it seemed, though I knew it was only a few blurred minutes. At first nothing had really registered. I had been numb as Hawke pulled me over to a fountain in the garden and washed me down with a torn-off piece of his robes. Words had been whispered but the new memories where muffled by adrenaline and the sound of my heart in my throat. I could not look away as the mage gently wiped the blood from my face, chest and arm. Had it been any other time I may have recoiled or perhaps found the touch pleasurable. But there in that dark garden his intention was merely to clean me and be quick about it, so I allowed it. We had separated after that, hurrying to our rooms to gather what little we would take with us. The plan had been unspoken yet we both knew what must be done. We were leaving, now. 

Just as Refin the Grey Warden Commander and the mage named Anders had done - or so Hawke informed me - we met at the southern garden and climbed the trellis there. It hadn't been particularly taxing, but the house was alive now with the shouts of guards and the wails and cries of the servants. They had found our Master. Something tugged within me. _I should go back and hand myself in. Master! What have I done to our master?!_ And then I looked up to see that handsome mage as he reached down to take my hand, to pull me over the wall to freedom at his side. The doubts simply vanished. 

We pressed our bodies flat against the wall of a store as metal boots thundered past. Hidden in the crevasse between two shops we made our prayers to the Maker. I counted the seconds under my breath. 

_'One. Two ... Forty. Forty-one.'_

A tug at my wrist as Hawke took hold of me. He slipped his hand into mine, eyes still watching the now empty street. I glanced at the entwining fingers, smiling a little when he unconsciously squeezed my palm to his. By the time my count reached seventy the mage pulled me gently into the vacant thoroughfare. From the darkened windows and alcoves I felt a thousand eyes watching. I flinched at every possible torch or candle-flame. Surrounded on two sides by towering stores with their owners' homes above, the two openings lead to and from the Magisters' manors. We were to head towards the western gate. There was no hope of boarding a ship in the eastern docks, not with the city's guard on high alert. I could only hope that the gates were still open. There was no way Hawke and I could scale a hundred-foot sheer wall. 

'Just like old times.' Hawke chuckled softly as we pressed on. 

He must have been referring to our life in Kirkwall, but since I did not remember it I merely gave a small smile. Had we really been like that, weaving our way through shadows, hiding at every sound or sign of life? Nothing stirred in my memory, so I left it alone. For now escaping was more pressing. I could worry about reawakening once we were safe. 

We turned a corner. 

'Flames.' ' _Kaffas._ ' 

Before us were three fully-armoured guards, already pulling their swords from their sheathes. As they charged Hawke released my hand and raised his staff. A blue light shone around us both, his barrier coming into effect. There was a crackle as fire illuminated in his empty palm, followed by a whoosh of air and a loud explosion as it was thrown and connected with the first guard. He screamed and swore in Tevene as he desperately flailed, crashing to the floor with a shriek. Still he writhed as his comrades descended on us. Hawke seemed to be doing okay. Summoning lightning this time he spread his palm. The flickers of purple electricity shot out, striking the second man. He got back up almost immediately. The mage swore and called another bout of violet light. I could watch no more. 

The third man commanded my attention. He roared as he brought his sword up. I dodged. The sword swiped the air, but he was quick. Before I could move again the blade came across my bare shoulder and butted his shield into the other. I reared back, roaring in pain; blue lit as red flowed from the wound. Whilst it was true I had no blade nor gauntlet, my lyrium still made me a deadly opponent. Speed increased by its sweet nectar, I shot behind the guard and pushed my hand through his back into his ribcage. As yet another boom of fire sounded I took hold of whatever warm lump inside him I could catch hold of. He hawked and blood sprayed from his lips. With a satisfied grin I pulled his insides. Red sprayed my front and he sank to his knees before me. As the mage dispatched a swirl of cold my opponent fell over sideways and bled out on the stone. The guard fighting Hawke glistened in place, a thick ice covering him. Within his cocoon of frost he would never breathe again. 

'I must be getting old.' He stretched out a little before twirling his staff and hooking it once more onto his back. 

I laughed. 'Hopefully a day will come where we never need do this again.' 

'I do keep praying.' 

I shivered where the blood was beginning to cool on me. Even with the warmth of my lyrium the adrenaline was proving too weak to combat the night chill. Hawke came over and unclasped his cloak, throwing it round my shoulder before clipping it in place. His hand gently tucked under the fabric a moment, his palm resting over my wound. I tensed. 

'Relax.' He stroked my face with his other hand, then moved it upwards to caress the length of my ear. 'My magic won't hurt you.' 

From beneath the thick wool a white glow emanated. Though I still pre-empted some form of pain, the mage was correct. I felt no hurt as he set about healing the cut. When he was done I circled my shoulder a few times to ease off the last of the ache. 

'Your body remembers me at least.' He smirked and gave me a wink before taking my hand again. 

'Hawke, I'm covered in blood.' I deadpanned as my light faded. 

He merely grinned as he pulled me off. 'And once again I shall have to clean you off. But later, Love, when we're in a little less peril. I have a feeling this won't be the last fight we have this evening.' 

How right he was. When at last the western gate came into view we had already dispatched another ten men between us. Luckily the portcullis was still raised. The difficulty came in that it was still up because they'd placed a regiment of twenty guards to watch over it. I looked to Hawke in our hiding place, a wall of barrels in a small side-alley. 

'We have no chance.' I sighed. 'We cannot hope to slip past them, nor can we scale the wall.' 

He hummed and looked around. It appeared he was seeking a secret door or perhaps a cellar to hide in till morning. There was none to be found. In the cool night air there was not even the chirp of crickets to disturb the silence. Suddenly a house was on fire. 

'Hawke!' I hissed, grabbing the wrist of his still fiery hand. The flames licked uncomfortably but did not burn. 

'It's fine, that house is empty. The plants on the sills are dead.' 

There was a whistle blown and the sound of at least a dozen pairs of feet. He pressed me down behind the barrels and then began to crawl off towards the main road. I rolled my eyes and followed. It turned out Hawke's distraction had worked remarkably well. There were only five guards remaining now. Hawke pulled my hood up and motioned for me to keep silent. He took hold my wrist and tugged me along, completely out in the open. The men reacted instantly, their blades in the hands within a blink. Hawke didn't seem to care. He continued to drag me along and aimed - so it seemed - to simply storm past them through the open gateway. The men stood confused until their leader decided to block the mage's path. 

_'Where do you think you're going?'_ He growled, sword pointed to Hawke's chest. 

In response he held aloft my arm and indicated to me. _'Out there to f*ck my elf where my b*tch of a wife won't interrupt us.'_

Beneath my hood I stifled a choke. 

The guard seemed taken aback. _'Well, I still need to see its face first. A Magister was just murdered in his own home. We're looking for a male elf with lyrium markings.'_

Though he clearly did not understand all the words, Hawke's focusing made a very convincing irritated look. _'You don't need to see.'_ He put a hand under my cloak to my chest, wearing his best lecherous gaze. _'I assure you this is a woman.'_

The guard did not look convinced. It was time to bite the dagger. Summoning all my non-existing acting abilities, I heightened my voice as much as I was able. _'M-master, please not in front of the guard.'_

_'I will do as I like, knife-ear.'_ There was a flicker of amusement in Hawke's eye. And though only I saw it, he made it very apparent I would never live this down. _'Can we go now? I'm rather impatient. Or do I have to summon my brother Magister Pavus?'_

_'Oh erm, yes, Altus. Please forgive me.'_ He bowed with a fist over his heart before moving aside. 

And with that we passed through the gate. For a while we simply walked down the road, though it was taking everything in me not to break out into a run. Hawke's hand slipped to hold my own when we were far enough away. The second the walls of Minrathous lay over a hill behind us, we quickened our pace and took to the forest. We ran in silence for a good mile, then slowed until finally we stopped to rest beneath by a small pool. 

'I cannot believe that worked.' I grumbled, yanking my hood down. Instantly I set about washing the blood from my body and washing my soiled favour. 

Hawke turned back from checking we had no pursuers. He wiped the sweat from his brow. 'Did you doubt my amazing charisma and devilishly good looks?' 

'I thought you couldn't speak Tevene.' I quipped, wringing the silk out before laying it across my lap. 

'Not very well I'll admit.' He gave a shrug and settled himself sitting against a rock. 'But you have taught me some over the years.' 

'I would not teach you how to say "f*ck my elf".' 

'Oh you did.' Hawke grinned. 

He proceeded to "quote" a dozen and more lines of gasped or growled erotic Tevene. Eventually I couldn't take anymore blood rushing to my head, so I stormed over and clamped my hands over his mouth. Beneath my fingers the grin widened. 

'Will you be silent?' I snapped, trying to ignore the burning sensation in my cheeks and ears. 

The mage mumbled against my palms till I removed them. He flashed me a smirk. 'I'm sorry, Leto. Am I turning you on?' 

Without another word I went back to fetch my dropped silk and retie it to my wrist. He now loomed behind me, arms coming up to drape around my shoulders. The warmth of his body against me brought back the incident in the bathhouse. I tried to still my breathing but it was not easy. Hawke was making concentrating incredibly difficult. 

'Hawke, now is not the time. We're still not safe.' 

'But you do want to sleep with me _sometime_?' He purred it low in my ear, sending a shiver up my spine. 

I turned to face him and frowned. 'Have you always been this persistent?' 

'You actually found my stubbornness maddeningly sexy before you got amnesia.' 

'I'm sure I-' 

Hawke pressed his mouth to mine. His lips caressing my own, I felt my eyelids slide shut as I held him tightly. The mage's back slammed into the tree. He gasped my name and I felt everything in me flare at his voice. There was truly no time. Within moments the guards were likely to realise their mistake and come rushing after us. The forest was the first place they would look. And yet there in that small clearing with him in my arms- 

His hands became knotted in my hair, pulling me up and our kiss deepening. Fingers combing the plaited tail I wore at the nape of my neck, seeking the tie that bound it. I was already at his robe fastenings when he finally managed to loose my hair. All thoughts of being caught or what had occurred barely three hours before were scattered to the wind. Now all that existed were the mage and I.

  


_"Am I hurting you?"_

_Warmth beneath me. Arms wrapped tightly round my chest._

_"No, it's- ah!- fine, Fen."_

_I caress his face, gently kiss his saccharine lips. "I apologise, I have never-"_

_"Me either."_

_"Oh. I thought..."_

_A gentle laugh. "No, I was waiting for the right man."_

_"I see."_

_"Fen?"_

_"Yes Hawke?"_

_Beneath me those amber eyes flash. "Make love to me."_

  


'Leto?' 

I opened my eyes to see I had come away from Hawke, hands to my head as I straightened from a crouch. He approached but at that moment I did not wish to be touched. I shied away from him. The mage did not look hurt. Simply he stopped in place and waited. 

'It's the memories again, isn't it?' 

I looked to him. 'How do you-' 

'You get them whenever I get you... _excited_.' He chuckled but then returned to a straight face. 'Do you remember anything this time? Normally they come and go without leaving a trace.' 

'Yes. I believe I recall it.' 

Hawke came closer then, holding my elbows and trying to capture my eyes with his own. I couldn't look at him. Hearing his voice in my mind, that calming tone so easily slipping to seduction, it was almost too much. At first I had thought it a quick fantasy, but the more I thought about it. The Hawke in the vision had been a little younger with a few less scars. _Could it be a memory as he says?_ But what we had said in that image... Neither of us had ever made love before it, which meant it was the first time. From his journals I knew it was the time I had left him and hurt him most. 

'That's brilliant!' He pulled me into a tight hug while I resisted the frightened response to push him away. 'Leto, what did you see? You normally never remember afterwards!' 

'I saw us.' Gently I rested my cheek against his shoulder, trying to calm myself. 'I think we were in Kirkwall.' 

'Which part did you recall?' His chest rumbled softly as he spoke, voice giddy with excitement. 'Something pleasant I hope.' 

'We were...' I trailed off into a mumble and then an embarrassed cough. 

'I didn't quite catch that, Love.' 

'It was the first time we...' Again I was unable to finish without feeling the heat rise to my face. 

Hawke arched an eyebrow and smiled. 'Oh, you remembered _that_.' 

'Yes.' 

'Well then shall we continue unlocking those memories?' He walked us back to the tree, pressing his back against it and using my hands to pin his wrists above his head. Hawke fixed me with another tender look. 'Make love to me, Leto.' 

Those words spurred me back into action. I shifted my hold on him, keeping his arms up with one hand and freeing my other. Without much more effort his robes opened revealing his pale chest to the moonlight. Here and there a silver scar shone. I pressed my lips to each of them. 

'I thought,' he looked down at me without moving his head as I spoke between kisses, 'that you would be the one to...' 

'Because you were a slave and I am a mage?' He chuckled softly when I looked up to him. 'No; trust me when I say you prefer it this way round, Leto.' 

'Did we ever try it?' 

'We did, once.' He shrugged and then gave a lazy smile. 'But you flipped us over before it ever got started. You said something about being unable to control yourself any- mmmm- longer.' 

I caught his gaze a second; those hooded amber eyes making my heart soften. 'You do not mind it?' 

'I prefer it this way round, if I'm... h-honest.' 

'As you wish it.' 

Hawke somehow gained the use of his right hand again. Gently he brought it down to lift my chin. 'You are not a slave now, Leto. You belong to only to yourself.' 

I gave a smile in return. 'Ah but Hawke, I am yours.' 

The mage pulled me once again into a crushing embrace, kissing each part of my face he could gain access to. He finished at my mouth but took a long time to draw away. I then realised in the confusion of it, he had switched our position. A scowl settled on my face. 

'I thought you said we prefer this the other way round.' 

Another teasing smile. 'We do, but right now I want to kiss you.' 

As Hawke made to capture me again there was a loud clatter in the near distance. I swore and grabbed his wrist, pulling him behind me as we took to a run. If we were quiet enough they wouldn't hear us trying to make an escape. The chances of that were minimal though. A clumsy warrior and mage make for a very loud signal. Further into the tree-line I was forced to press Hawke against a oak's trunk. He took the moment to try refastening his robes, grumbling about being cold. I clamped a hand over his mouth and listened. An arrow whistled past, leaving us barely a second to leap out of the way of its brother. 

'We've no choice, we'll have to fight.' Hawke snapped the last belt into place and drew his staff into his hand. 

My lyrium ignited as I took a better stance. 'I told you we had no time for fooling about.' 

He merely returned it with a smirk that read: "We'll definitely continue this later". And with that he cast a barrier.

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Kaffas._ = *curse word* "Sh*t".**

**2) _Altus._ = A rank in the Tevinter Imperium. A mage who is from a long lineage of magical blood.**


	21. As the snow falls

_The smell of sour ale and vomit leave us as we greet the chill night air. Above us only the moon, shrouded by the black clouds. The mages, the elf and the pirate making their way through the dark streets; our stomachs full of warmth and our cheeks red with drink. It brings out the worst in all of us._

_"I can't imagine what Hawke sees in you." He is unsubtle and does not care if he is heard._

_The other mage goes to object but I am quicker. "It is done. Leave it be."_

_"Well, good." He tosses his golden hair over his shoulder, reminding me of an indignant cat. "I always knew he had some sense."_

_The woman looks between us all. Her soft brown eyes linger on the fourth a moment, a worried glance before she turns to glare at us both. We ignore it, the fight is too good to let lie. After two days of travelling with this man and his constant declarations of "the plight of the mages" I am ready to end him where he stands. The slight against my mage is enough to- I retract that thought. The handsome man who walks before me is not my mage anymore. I made that error when I left that night. Still I had had my reasons, had I not? The pain is still fresh in my mind. I cannot risk it happening again, but all the while my heart cries out for him. If this is what dying feels like I can see why men cower before it._

_I reply but my voice does not contain the anger I feel. Here and there I stumble as my throat suddenly dries. "Do not make light of this. Leaving was the hardest thing I've ever done."_

_She has had enough. Hands grab us both roughly by the shoulder and turn us to face her. "Oh will you two get over yourselves? You're like two dogs around a bitch in heat!"_

_My rage finally surfaces and though I do not raise my voice, my bitterness makes itself known. "We were talking about Hawke, not you."_

_She glowers but instantly she is drawn again to our Champion. He has half-turned to look back at us, his eyes welling up. Without another word he quickens his pace, making his way through the Lowtown streets._

_Three voices cry out into the cold night. "Hawke!"_

  


I awoke with a start, pushing my damp hair from my face. The room was carved of dark stone, the windowpane showing the cold light of late morning. Outside the snow would be falling, but here beneath furs and with the fire roaring I was safe and content. No I was not, for beside me the bed lay flat. I tore myself from the warmth and looked about for my shirt, the chill quickly settling in now I stood in only my underclothes. It was at that moment the door opened and I was forced to grab the first thing in sight to cover myself. 

Slowly he removed the apple from his mouth and grinned, leaning himself against the doorframe. 'You should wear robes more often, Leto. They bring out the _Elvhen_ in you.' 

I scowled and tossed the green cloth from myself the moment he came in and closed the door. 'I have no desire to look like the Dalish, Hawke.' 

'Pity.' 

'You have a thing for elves?' I raised an eyebrow. 

'No. Just for the sexy elf who I found with bed-head wearing my robes.' Hawke took another bite and perched himself on the end of the bed, watching as I hunted for my shirt again. 

'You really shouldn't say such things.' We both knew I was blushing but I would be damned if I was going to acknowledge it. 

'Are you going to make me be quiet?' 

'I shall if I must.' 

'Kinky.' 

Stopping I stood and just looked at him, mouth agape a little. 'Hawke, that's- that's not what I-' 

'Relax Leto, I know. I was only teasing you.' 

We had been this way for about a month now. Since our intimacy had been disturbed in the forests of Tevinter, I had once more returned to merely admiring the mage from afar. It was true we were both now free of danger, protected and hidden in the nest of Wardens, and yet I felt new and afraid. In my new state I had never been without my Master, without orders or rules. To suddenly find myself my own man, free to spend my time as I wished... The first morning I had tried to sleep in, to lie with Hawke in my arms and let the morning drift into afternoon. But I could not. The instant the sun had risen I found myself irrevocably awake, and had taken to sit by the fire and await Hawke's awakening - which much to my chagrin had been several hours later. Yet each day Hawke seemed a little more eager to try and recover the romance that had so suddenly blossomed between us. He would take my hand under the mess-hall table, sit just a little too close in the library or fix my hair as we took respite during training. Since our time amidst the trees we had yet to kiss, though it was not for want of the mage trying. 

"Leto, you have some broth on your lip." 

"Leto, close your eyes a moment. I have something I want to give you." 

He did this at least once a day when he thought he could catch me off-guard. I have to confess, it was incredibly sweet and I was not without desire on my own part. Yet I needed time to come to terms with my new life. I needed to read our journals again - mine he had so lovingly rescued from the Caecina manor the night we fled. I needed to try and recover myself as Leto, not Fenris. 

His little gestures were helping; a caress here or a nudge there were sparking things within me, the power of his love and my lyrium breaking through whatever foul magic the Magister had done to me. But in truth I was frightened. It was painful when the memories broke through, like water rising and surging against a dam, but that barricade was my mind and the visions and sounds were near deafening. Each time they came he would hold me till they passed, whispering sweet words and telling me how much he loved me. It wounded me ever more that it seemed the painful memories were coming first. Seeing Hawke's tear-filled eyes, the sneer of the blonde mage or the sly deceit of my sister was sometimes too much. I was afraid that if this was what a touch brought, that another kiss or more would be my undoing. But how could I tell him this? How could I say that though I longed for his love, I feared it would kill me? I was hurting him by rejecting his advances when it was so clear I wanted him. And I did want him, so badly it hurt as much as the memories. Yet still I cowered and hated myself more for it. 

Those kind amber eyes never left me as I eventually found my clothing and pulled it on. I hadn't noticed him come up behind me, arms wrapping about my waist and pulling me tight against him. 

'If you're worried you'll hurt me because of your lyrium, you can relax.' He cooed into my ear. 'I'm a big boy, I can handle it.' 

'It- it isn't that.' Slowly I turned to face him, raising my hands to cup his face gently. 

'Then what is it, Leto?' He stroked his freshly-shaven cheek against one of my palms, his expression becoming content though his words rang with concern. 

'Hawke, before you I was-' 

'Messere Hawke! Messere Leto!' 

The door burst open as one of the Wardens pushed their way inside. His Anderfel complexion took a decidedly pinker tone upon catching the ex-Champion and I in each others' arms. Eyes quickly cast downwards as I pulled myself away from Hawke. The mage seemed completely unbothered, leading me to wonder if this sort of interruption had been common for us in Kirkwall. 

'You may speak, Warden.' He nodded. 

'It is a letter from Warden Commander Tabris, Messere.' He fumbled with the parchment in his hands before passing it over. 'If that is all, I will leave you now. I'm sorry for- for-' 

Then as quickly as he came he was gone. Hawke chuckled and went to close the door after him, ensuring this time he firmly bolted it in place. He made to stash the letter in his pocket but I caught his hands. 

'Read it to me. What I was to say can wait.' 

'No it can't.' The letter was hidden from my view. His expression was soft but behind it I could see the intensity of his focus. 'Leto, please continue.' 

'Ah, err... Very well.' I perched myself on the end of the bed, and he moved to sit beside me. 'Hawke, before I met you - this time I mean - I was nothing but Fenris. An _incaensor_ who served his Master without question. I never thought of anything but his orders, I never dreamed of such idle fantasies as a future that did not involve servitude nor dared to think of finding love. My everything was to my Master's design. Shortly before you arrived he had set a plan into motion that he would find me a woman, and that I was to father children with her; this I thought was to be my future, my chance at love. But I was fooling myself, for she would never love me and this was simply another order I was to carry out. The part that sickens me now is I would still have gone through with it, because that was what my Master wanted. I would have damned both that she-elf and myself to a life of misery, denied us both the chance to find love, simply because we were to follow orders. 

'Yet then I met you. At first you irritated me. The fact you endeavoured to taunt and harass my Master placed a fire in my belly, one which stoked day by day. I did not understand your fascination with me, and I thought it to merely be the same lust-filled gazes I had received at every party or gala I had attended. But when you had kissed me that night in the maze, something unlocked within me. I hated myself for it, but I wanted your attention; I desired to be the sole object of your affections. It was the first time I had known selfishness, a want of something for myself only. Though I tried to ignore it, to serve my Master as I had always done, I found that it grew more difficult with each passing hour. However I was also hurting myself. At the time I did not know who this "Leto" was, and was told by my Master he was your deceased lover and that because we looked similar you were imprinting him onto me. Of course I now know this was not the case, but at the time it hurt; firstly because I felt I was using your grief to obtain your love, and secondly because I knew that such adoration was aimed not towards me, but to "Leto". 

'When I finally came to terms with the fact I was both Fenris and Leto, and that I was yours, emotions became too much for me. In truth I did intend only to steal back my favour, but when I saw him lying there... When I saw that he wore my favour as a mockery of what he had taken from us... He had to pay for what he had done, for those he had hurt. Not just us but all the other slaves who knew no better, all those he had killed and maimed, tortured and sacrificed for his own wicked ends.' 

I paused when I felt his hand slip atop mine. His thumb stroked across my knuckles before he gave a small nod to continue. 

'And- and now I am free of that life. I am once again no longer Fenris, but Leto. And it frightens me, Hawke. I am not the man I once was. The elf in those journals had three years to adjust, three years to grow bitter before coming into the warmth of your presence and seeing who he truly was. This time you met me as a broken man, a slave who wore his chains with pride. I am ashamed, and to let you see me like this...' 

'But it's not just that, is it?' His other hand pressed gently against my cheek. 'Leto, tell me everything.' 

'It hurts.' Tears welled at my eyes. 'It hurts when my memories return, and so I fear your touch as much as I crave it. Yet it is not just the physical pain... The bad memories are all that are returning so far, and I do not wish to see those. Where are the happy memories, Hawke? Why can I not have them if I am to see anything? Is the Maker forcing me to see all the hurt I have caused you before I am worthy to be yours again?' 

Hawke gathered me in his arms, lightly pressing my head against his chest. I wept there and he held me through each shaking sob and bitter curse. All the while he caressed my hair, whispered soft loving words into my ear and left small butterfly kisses across my brow. 

'You do not need to be punished.' He said gently, when at last I had no more tears to cry. 'Leto, you have been through enough. I don't know why the bad ones are coming back first, other than perhaps it is to do with Kaith's spell - a deterrent from continuing trying to unlock them. But all those things you see are in the past; they are over now and I am still here with you. That is what you need to focus on, Love. You need not be ashamed of who you were or that reclaiming your memories hurts. I need you to tell me these things so I can help you, Leto. That you went through this life twice and still came out alive is a miracle, and that once again I was lucky enough to become yours...' This time it was Hawke's tears that fell, and I who wiped them away. 'Leto, I'm sorry I'll go slower. Sometimes I forget that this has changed you, and that you need time to readjust. I just love you so much.' 

Warmth spread through me, ending with a smile. 'And I love you, Hawke.' 

I kissed him chastely, and he asked for nothing more. We sat in silence after that, simply holding one another and thinking. Though I cannot be certain how much time had passed, I caught myself almost drifting off in his arms. The nightmare must have taken more from me than I thought. Chin resting atop my head, the ex-Champion gave a loud snore. 

'Hawke?' 

'Mfph.' 

'Hawke.' 

'...Don't make me go to a ball again, mother... ' 

'Hawke!' 

He awoke with a start but then looked down to me with a lazy smile. 'Well good morning, Leto.' 

'The letter, Hawke.' I would have reached for it myself, but no doubt the mage would assume me grabbing his back pocket was an invitation to other things. I had just helped him to understand I wanted to take things slowly, something so rash would be counterproductive. 

'Oh yeah.' He took it out and cracked the wax seal. 

  


_A twin-sided locket, her crest and his. A portrait of a King, but he appears how she sees him; the young Warden whose jokes are as sharp as his sword._

  


'Leto?' Hawke had dropped the letter, his hands come to hold my face. 'Love, look at me. Are you ok?' 

Sweat had collected in cold beads on my forehead, slowly running down my temples. Slowly I uncurled my fists from his shirt. 'I- I am fine.' 

'What's wrong?' 

'I think I remembered something again.' I looked to the letter. 'I think- I think I remember that seal. She makes it with her locket...' 

'So it's not just our touch that makes you remember.' He smiled gently. 'Other things can trigger it too.' 

'It seems so.' I wiped my brow on my cuff and motioned for him to continue. I did not wish to consider everything I came into contact with could now cause the slicing twinge in my head and the wave of nausea. 'Open it, I am fine now.' 

The mage nodded and removed the parchment from its envelope. 'I wrote to her when we arrived, it must be her reply.' 

'Well, go on then.' 

He cleared his throat and began. ' _"Dearest Leto, I hope this letter finds you in better health and mind than Hawke has detailed. When I think of what that_ delltash _of a Magister has done to you, I feel sick to my core and want nothing more than to march north and slay the twisted son of a whore myself. It seems, however, I am too late for my revenge as Hawke informs me you have ended him yourself. Good. I hope you made him suffer, Leto. After all he did to you he deserves no less than to wander the Fade castrated and_ lethara _by demons._

' _"I have spoken to Siegfried of your condition and, from what he can find, he believes you are under powerful blood magic. Ordinarily the spell would have ended with the death of the Magister controlling it, however since you are still affected Siegfried says that Kaith must have ordered another mage to conduct it, therefore it would be very difficult to discover the true source of it and free yourself. I'm really sorry, but it seems other than the mage's death, the only other possible easy solution is more blood magic; something I know both you and Hawke wish to avoid. I suppose there is a brighter side though. Hawke has also explained that he believes he knows another way to unlock your memories, and in truth Leto I would be inclined to trust him with this._

' _"Onto more pleasant matters. Alistair - sorry - The King of Ferelden has requested for you to come to the palace as soon as is possible. The word of your heroism has been spread across Ferelden like fire in a brush, Leto. The Alienage sings your praise to the_ vehnadahl, _praying to the Maker and the Old Gods alike for your memories to return. The story has raised many eyebrows at court, and has the nobility wondering if we should not "Do something about those barbarians up north". You have become something of legend in the south, and I am sure the tales will soon catch the winds of the Free Marches and Nevarra soon enough. I personally take no responsibility for half the songs composed and a third of the stories told... The others I may be liable._

' _"Oh I nearly forgot. In case you have remembered me fully already, thanks to your help I managed to cross the Tevinter border before my son arrived. He was born in_ The Maiden's Rest _\- of all places! - in Nessus, Nevarra not a week after our flight from Minrathous. He is healthy and has his father's lungs, though I am pleased to say his ears bear a distinct point to them. Personally I must wonder if his father has some elf in his own lineage, for the child is fully elven on my own side, and to have un-rounded ears suggests his other grandmother must have been elven also. But I digress. When you come to the palace I would so love for you to meet our boy, and I know for certain he is keen to meet his namesake._

' _"Till then I wish you every happiness, Leto. Be strong and know you can fight Kaith's wickedness, I believe in you. May the Maker watch over you and keep you in His thoughts. Yours in friendship eternal, Refin."_ ' 

'Refin...' I let her name roll in my mind a moment. 'She is the Warden Commander? The one I mentioned in my journal.' 

'That's her.' Hawke nodded and turned the parchment over. 'Ah here's my bit. _"Hawke, you are a complete ass. I told you before that you were a_ letharais _fool for leaving Leto behind, but now I see the true measure of your stupidity. You better watch over him and keep him safe, because I swear to the Maker that if you hurt him after all he has been through, I will find you and I will string your guts from Weisshaupt to Orlais as Feast Day decorations! Maker watch over your damned ass, cause else I'll be slicing it off. Tabris."_ Such a cheery woman, I think I like her.' 

I chuckled and leaned against him once more. 'I wish I could remember more of her.' 

'You will one day, Leto.' He placed the letter to one side and returned to holding me tightly. 'But for now, just rest. She's right, you've been through a lot and need time to recover.' 

'Thank you, Hawke.' 

'But the second you're in the mood, you just let me know and I'll be there.' 

'I will Hawke.' 

'I mean it. The _absolute_ second.' 

'You really are starved, aren't you?' 

'Gimme a break, Leto.' He jokingly whined. 'It's been seven months.' 

I smiled gently. 'And yet you are so patient with me. We shall have to get you a medal, Hawke.' 

'A nice shiny medal.' He nodded. 'I can put it on the wall beside my Champion of Kirkwall one.' 

A laugh escaped us both, one which melted any fear that remained within me and erased a few of the anxious lines on Hawke's brow. It would take me time to become truly myself again, but as long as I had Hawke at my side, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I was truly his Leto again. 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Elvhen._ = Elven word for themselves, literally meaning "Our People".**

**2) _Incaensor._ = Tevene word for a dangerous magical substance. It can also be used in derogatory slang as a word for a magic-using slave.**

**3) _Amatus._ = Tevene word used for one's lover, literally means "Beloved" or "Darling".**

**4) _Delltash._ = An elven curse, unknown meaning but is used as an insult.**

**5) _Lethara._ = Stems from _letharais_. Roughly translates to "f**ked". (Non-canon).**

**6) _Vehnadahl._ = The tree planted in the centre of each City Elf Alienage. Grown as a symbol of their culture and their Dalish heritage.**

**7) _Letharais._ = Roughly translates to "f**king". (Non-canon).**


	22. Epilogue

How strange it was to feel the familiar stone beneath my feet. As a young man I had paced these floors, awaiting the moment the front door would open; sick to my stomach as my mind and heart fought the ever tidal battle of logic and love. My eyes lingered over the squared jut on the eastern wall. It was here we shared our first kiss. His words still rang in my ears as memory flashed blue, ending with a passionate embrace. Yet there I was once more, older and wiser but still ever poised for the sound of boots on the cobbles outside. I fussed a little more than normal; no matter how I adjusted them my hair and jerkin would not sit the way I wished. But finally I saw the handle twist and I stood to greet. Face battered by the winter winds, cheeks pink and nose reddened, Hawke grinned out from beneath his fur-rimmed hood. I returned his smile and immediately came to embrace him. The mage opened his cloak to one side and spread it over me, pulling me inside. 

'I didn't think you'd still be up.' He smiled as I pressed a warm kiss to his cool cheek. 

'I missed you.' 

'And I you. I'm sorry I'm so late, Varric kept wanting to relive our glory days.' A low chuckle but it couldn't mask the concern. 'Anything to escape the paperwork of a Viscount, right?' 

'Such as he is.' I frowned, examining his features. 'Garrett, what troubles you?' 

He moved his hand to my chin, on his fourth finger a silver band caught the light and shone. 'Do you promise me you won't be angry?' 

I reached up my left hand, placing it atop his. My own ring glimmering as it met its twin. 'It depends entirely on what you wish to tell me.' 

'Well, I didn't just go to see Varric.' 

'I gathered that from your guilty expression when you said so.' I smirked. 'You cannot lie to me.' 

'No I guess I can't.' He laughed and then shifted his cloak somewhat. 

I took a step back, allowing him some room, but with that he took my hand and led me through to the main room. Here and there lay the remnants of my earlier waiting period; three half-read books, two empty bottles of wine and a quartet of apples cores. I hadn't the inclination to wander the streets that day, and Hawke had been gone for essentially the entirety of it. The fire burned merrily, melting whatever snow and ice the reinstated Champion trekked through the house. Together we perched on the couch, and as we did so Garrett pulled his cloak back. Held in the crook of his arm was a bundle, wrapped in at least two kinds of thick cloth. As soon as it was exposed to the warmth of the room it gave a little wriggling motion. 

My breath caught a moment. 'Garrett, is that-' 

'I heard an elf talking in the marketplace.' His words came out as a steady stream, barely stopping for breath. 'She said that her family had found him but couldn't afford to take care of him. They were going to send him to the Chantry in Ostwick, but I couldn't just leave him to a life where he'd just end up in another Alienage. You know the Chantry doesn't take elves on as Brothers, and I couldn't... So I went to their home and asked if I might take him instead. They were more than willing to give him up once they realised I was the Champion and would take good care of him, so- so I was hoping we might...' 

I placed a gentle hand to his cheek, soothing him. Looking into those teary hope-filled eyes I came to realise just how much I loved this man. Even after all the Fade we had been through, he was still thinking of how he could help others. 

'Of course we can.' 

His eyes widened. 'Leto, you mean...?' 

Gently I crooked a finger and stroked the babe's soft cheek. He awoke but only yawned and looked to me with _Elvhen_ green eyes. 'He will be our son.' 

With his free arm he pulled me against him, and sobbed into my shoulder. The child burbled and cooed, bringing a smile to my face. During our years in Kirkwall Hawke had faced many trials. He had lost his entire family save his uncle and cousin, and at one point he had even lost his love because of my fear. Then after everything he had lost me again thanks to Kaith, forcing him to start again. It had taken time, years in fact, but finally most of my memories had returned and through all the hardships Hawke had remained by my side and never cast me off. The first new inkling we had had to settle down proper was when we visited Denerim two years after arriving at Weisshaupt. Finally convinced I was safe enough to travel, Hawke and I set out for the Fereldan capital. 

The King had been every bit as jovial as when we'd met him in Kirkwall. Though older now, he still looked the role of boy King. Refin would hardly let me go the entire visit, whether embracing me or clinging to my arm, demanding a full retelling of what had happened after she left me in Minrathous. After much wine and cursing and jokes at the Magister's expense, she regaled us with the tale of her journey to Nessus and the birth of their son. 

"I've never seen Siegfried go so white!" She had laughed. 

The mage had huffed from the corner. "Yes well forgive me, Warden Commander. I was not expecting you to appear at my door in the middle of the night, half-nude and furiously demanding me to "Get that demon out of you now"." 

Once the tale was done and Alistair and Hawke had shared a cheese platter or two, the young Prince was sent for. I had not expected how small he would look. A boy of two-and-a-half years, so fragile and innocent though his parents knew the harsh cruelties of the world. He looked the image of his father right down to the golden tresses of the Theirin line, but Refin had been correct about his ears. The points were too long to be a purely half-human child; Alistair must have had an elven mother. Leto, Refin said his name was. She had named him after me, the elf who had saved their lives from the Tevinter Magister. It was when I saw him climb onto the couch and Alistair sat holding him, one arm around Refin and a homely smile upon his face, that I realised. Garrett had caught my eye and reached over to take my hand. When the King at last asked what I wanted as my reward for saving his lover and child, I replied that I wished for Hawke and I to be wed as soon as was possible. 

The King did nothing by halves. Though we requested only a simple ceremony, he had the whole of Denerim thrown into preparation. His reason he said was because we were both heroes, and heroes should have a proper celebration. Refin - despite her usual preference to ignore such an event - was fully involved. She spent hours helping choose flowers and assisting Hawke find the fabric for his robes. In truth I believe the royal couple were giving us the wedding they could never have, and so Hawke and I let them play at wedding planners. After all, flowers and pretty cloth and candles meant nothing to us, all that mattered was our union. The festivities had lasted two days, so long that Hawke and I were having to steal moments to slip away and be together privately. Once it was all over, Alistair sent us to Val Royeaux for a honeymoon whilst his secret Queen demanded a letter every day so she could be sure we were safe. 

Now with the Kirkwall Circle rebuilt Hawke had thrown his all into the protection and education of mages and Templars. He had even undergone his own Harrowing. However after seeing the danger Templars were exposed to from the red lyrium when he attended the Inquisitor, Hawke begged me not to undergo their training. So for him, I merely taught the recruits what I had learnt over my time amongst mages without experiencing the process myself. 

Recently I had begun to think of Refin and Alistair once more; of the small family they held with such a tender protective grip. Whilst it was true Hawke and I were still enamoured by one another, we were both men. And, as Hawke had told me during our honeymoon, no amount of love or magic or lyrium could grant us what we desired. With this elven child our dream had finally become a reality, we had one another and we had our son. 

'He will need a name, Garrett.' I gently urged the mage to dry his tears. 

Resting his cheek against my shoulder, he turned to look at the baby. 'Well he's elven, so it seems wrong to give him a boring human name.' 

'"Garrett" is boring?' 

'My parents were a little more adventurous.' He gave a soft chuckle. 'I know, how about _Lenvehnan_?' 

'"Child of the heart"? I am not Dalish, Garrett.' 

'What about something Tevinter-ish then?' He watched me cautiously, afraid he'd said the wrong thing. 

'Well, I did find something in my journal a while ago. Two names I had dreamt of.' 

He relaxed and smiled. 'Go on.' 

'Gaius was the elder one.' I looked to the babe seeing he watched me intently. 'It means "To rejoice".' 

'I think it's perfect.' Hawke raised him to look him in the eye. The boy wriggled and gave a small coo. 'Gaius Hawke! You'll be a strapping young man who will charm and inspire fear alike! Think of the stories your Uncle Varric will tell of you!' 

'Garrett...' 

'What?' The mage looked to me, feigning hurt. 'He is a Hawke, Leto.' 

'That's what I'm worried about.' I reached over and took the baby from him, cradling him close. 'I have enough to worry about with one Hawke charging up and down, casting spells every time he feels the urge.' 

'Says the glowing warrior elf.' He pulled a tongue at me then shifted his arms around me. 'Do you think we'll finally get to live in peace and quiet now?' 

I looked up from our son to meet his gaze. Over almost two decades Hawke and I had been through every pain, every trial imaginable and yet here we sat side-by-side. Our love was stronger for it, and each day I knew I loved him more than the last. Those amber eyes held me as I placed a hand on his cheek. Just for him I let my lyrium glow softly. 'I would like to hope so, _Amatus_.' 

###### 

**TRANSLATIONS (non-canon phrases done by Google Translate, so no doubt very poorly).**

**1) _Elvhen. _= Elven word for themselves, literally meaning "Our People".__**

**2) _Lenvehnan. _= Made from _Len_ meaning "Child" and _Vehnan_ meaning "Heart", so a loose translation is "Child of the Heart".__**

**3) _Amatus._ = Tevene word used for one's lover, literally means "Beloved" or "Darling".**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! ^.^
> 
> The series will be added to at a later date with side-fics involving Refin and Alistair, and how Hawke and Leto cope with parenthood! Please look out for more or my fics!
> 
> Please kudos and comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> Till next time!  
> Dene.


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